


Bridget - What Came Before

by Aragem



Series: Hope, Faith, and Love [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Dark, F/M, Marriage, Original Character(s), Parent-Child Relationship, Post-War, Pregnancy, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 116,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragem/pseuds/Aragem
Summary: Bridget's story; a side story to For We May Hope.What happened during the Galra invasion of Earth as told through Bridget's eyes.  This story covers what happened during the day of the attack, the weeks of war, and how Bridget's life and family was torn apart and how she came to be found in Zenana.





	1. Chapter 1

Interviews with experts from NASA and Galaxy Garrison representatives paraded across the networks. All the interviews were about the Galra. Topics ranged from the shapes of their ships, the attempts at diplomacy, and preparation if diplomacy should fail. Devin and I paid close attention to the news, catching any new iota of information as it was reported. Three times a day Commander Prorok's message would hack through all media outlets to remind us of their presence above Earth.

Months after that night, I had gone to a pool party. I didn’t want to go, but Devin said it would be good for me and the baby to do something relaxing and forget the Galra for a while. I squeezed into a maternity bathing suit and drove to Eva’s new house where she had recently installed a new pool. 

Eva Hayes had been a friend of mine since primary school. Her late father had been friends with mine before he passed away, at almost the same time as I had lost my mother. Losing parents we couldn't remember cemented our friendship despite being so different. I had been the good Catholic school girl while Eva was quite the opposite. She picked fights, cut class, and even talked back to teachers. She was seen flirting with the local atheist and that became a huge scandal for our Catholic dominated neighborhood. I suspected our friendship may have been encouraged in the hopes I would be a good influence over Eva. 

When Eva turned sixteen, her mother remarried and they moved away to Paris. A modeling agency hired Eva and she starred in several fashion magazines until, at age 24, she refused to renew her contracts and retired from modeling. By that time, she had a pretty sizable nest egg with several investments and shareholdings that would keep her living in comfort for the rest of her life. She moved back to Ireland and bought a house in a middle-class neighborhood in Limerick.

When asked why she ended her burgeoning modeling career so soon, she said, “I was sick of Mom trying to live vicariously through me and step-fuck (her step-father) hitting on me.”

So here we were, sitting side by side at the pool as polar opposite as black and white. Eva looked like an Egyptian goddess in her black bikini with gold rings at the hips, shoulders, and between her breasts, reclined showing off a marvelous tan and toned body looking for all the world like she was modeling in a swimwear advert for Vogue. Her jet black hair shone beneath the sun which her toe ring caught the light as she bobbed her foot in beat with the music chiming from her outdoor stereo. And there I was, sitting hunched up beneath an umbrella, my copper red hair in a mass of curls that defied gravity in this humidity, wearing a sickly green one-piece bathing suit with my baby bump protruding between my legs. My pale skin would have sizzled and baked under this hot sun so along with slathering on sunscreen, I stayed beneath the shade awning and umbrella while Eva basked in the sun.

“How’s your man Devin taking this heat?” Eva said, lacquer nails clicking on her margarita glass. “It must be killing him to work in that hole.” Eva liked Devin, and she supported me when I defied Dad to marry him. She came to the wedding bedecked in the latest Parisian fashion and had snuck into the back to do my makeup with a kit she had smuggled from a Vogue makeup artist.

“Sunblock and plenty of fluids,” I said setting my water bottle down by my hip. “He’s taking on extra hours at a construction site near Ennis.”

“Isn’t that a bit much after an 8-hour shift at the quarry?” Eva asked lifting her sunglasses above her eyes.

I closed my eyes, “We need the money.” It hurt to say it.

With the Galra mounting their forces, people have lost their tastes for fine dining and the restaurant's business plummeted. We went from having all tables booked each night to catering walk-ins from the street and then sometimes have no customers at all. Eventually, my boss, Angelo Ricci, decided to temporarily close the restaurant, saying he would come back to reopen once this business with the Galra concluded. He returned home to Italy, but not before saying we could take whatever we wanted from the pantry stores and freezer. I came home with several galleon tins of marinara, a forest of spaghetti noodles, a basket of bread, and enough materials to open our own pizza shop.

I wanted to find work, but Devin told me he wanted me to stay home. It's dangerous. People are seeing what’s happening as the end of the world, he had said. They’re doing crazy things and it’s going to get worse before it gets better.

So with only his income things had become financially tight at home. Food prices had gone up due to the panic and spiked demand. People were stocking away canned food, clean water, and supplies, we even saw others constructing shelters in their backyard along our street.

“If you guys need money . . .” Eva started, but I shook my head.

“No, Devin won’t have it,” I said.

“You don’t have to tell him,” Eva said, giving me a wink.

“I can’t lie to him,” I said adamantly. “If he finds out, not only will be angry at me for taking the money but for lying about it too.”

In the pool were a few of Eva’s other friends, or as she liked to call them, sicko-phants. They paddled in the pool, chatting and singing along with the stereo. I didn’t know them and I doubted Eva knew them very well either. One of them was a man that kept raking his eyes over her and trying to gather the courage to speak to her. Of course, like any beautiful woman who was the object of admiration, she was oblivious of him.

“I heard they were giving generous stipends for those who enlist . . .” she began thoughtfully.

“No,” I said in a voice that ended the topic. “He will not be leaving me alone to have this baby without him.”

I had told Devin that if he dared to enlist in the Defence Forces, then I would move back to Liverpool to live with my father until he returned. Dad had been begging us to move in with him, but Devin was dead set against it as he had never forgiven my father for breaking my heart by not coming to our wedding. I swore if Devin left to play army and leave me alone to give birth during an alien invasion, he would return to an empty house.

Eva took off her sunglasses and pressed the earpiece against her red, glistening bottom lip in a contemplative nibble, “Want to come inside? There’s something I want to give you. It’s not money, promise.”

“Help me up then.”

Pulling on my arms, we managed to get me on my feet. I tottered slightly with my swollen belly throwing off my balance. There was a dull ache from where Connor had pressed his rear end on my ribs. I rub the area and was rewarded with a fluttery movement within. A small wave crawled across my stomach, easily see through my swimsuit, and Connor relaxed into his new position. Eva stared at my stomach in morbid awe.

“I cannot believe that that doesn’t hurt,” she said.

“I’m actually going to miss it when he comes,” I replied ruefully placing my hands on my belly.

“When is he due?”

“A few weeks.”

Eva led me inside her house which had amazingly white carpet and dark furniture. There was a study just down the hall with a writing desk and an impressive library of books that I sadly knew was meant to give the room a literary aesthetic, then actually be read. Eva pushed aside a framed painting and predictably there was a wall safe behind it. After twisting the dial several times, cursing under breath each time she made a mistake, she opened it with a pleased flourish and took out a case.

Setting it on the desk, she flipped up the clasps and revealed a dark handgun on red velvet. There were hollows around holding two clips and a box of bullets. When I first saw the case, I thought Eva was going to show off some 100,000 euros worth of jewelry or papers to a house or even her will, but not this. The gun seemed to stare back at me like a dangerous animal that would attack at the slightest provocation. 

“Where did you get this?” I whispered.

“I dated an American a few months ago and he managed to get me this at a steal of 20,000 US dollars.”

I gasped in horror, “Guns cost that much?”

“The good ones do,” Eva said closing the case and locking the claps back into place. “Just take it home and give it to Devin. If he won’t take my money, then maybe he’ll see the sense in accepting this. I want to be sure you have some protection after I leave.”

“Are you going back to Paris?”

Eva snorted, “Like hell. I have a cottage in Italy far away from any major cities. It’s set up with supplies and survival equipment inside a bunker underneath the cottage with access to all emergency channels. I’d invite you along, but I know you don’t want to leave Ireland without Devin and he won’t go.”

“Do you think it’s any safer in the country?”

“Of course,” Eva said sliding the case along the desk towards me. “I know people who know other people who know things that aren’t getting out to the public. The warships that are orbiting Earth are hovering over major cities; London, Moscow, Beijing, New York, and Tokyo. There’s even one floating over Dublin. So when the attack happens, don’t go there with the other refugees. Go south into the country and find someplace safe to hide.”

A chill went down my spine. I had never really discussed what would happen when the attacked happened with anyone before. Nobody to my knowledge had, at least not on television. Discussing it was ominous, like jinxing ourselves.

“Do you think it’s going to happen soon?” I laid my hands over my belly where my child gentle stirred as if sensing my distress.

Eva didn’t speak at first. She stared at me for a long time before she said, “I think so. They aren’t going to hover up there forever and they didn’t come all this way for nothing. This pool party is one last hurrah before the shite comes down on us.”

I went home with the gun case hidden under my beach bag. Along the way, I noticed there was more traffic leading out than into the city. I wondered if they had the right idea. When I arrived home, I tidied up around the house, making a point not to turn on the tv and listen to more reports on the Galra ships. I cooked a small meal, ate dinner alone, put a plate in the oven for Devin, and showered. Then I read in bed waiting up for him. It wasn’t until after 9:00 when he finally came home.

He came into the bedroom tired and with stiff limbs. His black hair still had dust from the construction yard in it. The front of his shirt still had dust and dirt clinging and the front of his jeans was a mess. He began to undress, shucking off his clothes and tossing them into a waiting laundry basket.

I set the book aside. “Welcome back. How was your day?”

“Brutal,” Devin muttered eyeing the space beside me on the bed. He wanted to collapse onto it, but I refuse to let him on clean sheets while he was still sweaty and dirty from work. He trudged into the bathroom, leaving the door open so we could talk.

I crossed my ankles, giving my feet a critical look. I hadn’t had a pedicure for months and I haven’t been able to reach my feet since my stomach formed a barrier between my upper and lower bodies. Shoes were out of the question unless I could stuff my feet into them. I’ve been scooting around in a comfortable pair of leather flip-flops for many weeks now.

“What time do you go in tomorrow?”

“Six o’clock . . . in Athlone.”

I stared incredulously at the clock. “Dear Lord, Devin, that’s a two-hour drive. You’ll have to be up at four to make it. Why!?”

“A lot of the guys are moving away with their families,” he called from the bathroom, His voice raised to be heard over the running water. “They need men up there and they’re willing to pay enough to make it worthwhile.”

“What about your shift at the quarry?”

“I told Murphy I’d take the evening ship when I got back.”

My mouth dropped open and I fumed until he came out wearing the sweatpants he liked to sleep in. He ruffled his hair with a white towel and pretended not to notice my frown.

I couldn’t keep it in. “So basically, I won’t see you until the day after tomorrow. That is if you don’t drop dead from being overworked!”

“We need the money,” was his mantra whenever I complained about his outrageous hours.

“I need you here,” I said hotly. “What if I go into labor tomorrow and you’re off in Athlone?”

“You’re not due for another two weeks.”

“What if . . .” I didn’t want to say it, but he understood without me having to.

“They’ve been up there for months shaking their fists at us and haven’t done a thing. They’ll probably spend the next several months giving us the evil eye,” Devin said, climbing into bed with me. He slipped an arm over me, above my round belly.

I was not amused at all. “I’m being serious, Devin. I am going to be very pissed off if I go into labor and you are not here to support me.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not due yet, but if you happen to go into labor, it’ll still be alright,” he said kissing my cheek. “The doctors and the books say you could be in labor for hours, plenty of time for me to get back before you give birth.”

I couldn’t argue with that. He leaned over and kissed me, laying a hand over my stomach where Connor lay still and sleeping. “Little Man give you much trouble today?”

“Other than his arse on my ribs, no,” I said laying my hand over Devin’s. “I think he’s eager to get more space.”

“He’ll have plenty of space in the nursery.” Devin’s eyes were half-lidded from exhaustion and I was certain he hadn’t touched his plate being too tired to eat after such a long day. He likely covered the plate and put it in the fridge for tomorrow. 

However, there was something else weighing on my mind then. “Devin, Eva gave me a gun today.”

He blinked at me, his exhaustion making his synapses slow on the uptake. “A gun?”

“Yes, she gave it to me today. She also said some things that worried me.”

I told him about the alien ships orbiting above major cities. He laid in a thoughtful silence before he said, “It makes sense, but I don’t like that she’s scaring you.”

“She didn’t have to say much to scare me. I’ve been scared for so long I forgot what it was like not being scared.” 

He took my hand and squeezed it. I felt a wave of warm comfort and affection in his presence. “It’ll be alright, Bridge. We’ll keep the gun if it makes you feel better, butI don’t have a license for it though.”

“I don’t think that matters anymore,” I said. “I’ve been thinking, maybe I should go to the doctor and see about inducing labor. Just go ahead and have Connor. That way I don’t go into labor at a bad time.” Bad time meaning during an alien attack.

“I don’t think our insurance will cover that and we don’t know when they’ll attack. They may attack while you’re in the hospital recovering and then what will we do?” He prodded my belly, hoping to entice Connor to move. “Don’t worry. I know it's hard not to, but we’ll get through this somehow.”

“After tomorrow, please don’t take any more long shifts far away. I want you close by. We don’t need the money that bad.” I hated the way my voice sounded. Small and weak, like a frightened child begging a parent to stay until she fell asleep so the monsters won’t get her.

Devin nodded, “Alright. I promise I’ll stick closer to home until the baby comes.”

Relieved, I kissed him, my lips lingering on his. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and I wasn’t too far behind. If I had known that our time together was so limited, I would have stayed awake and memorized him, etching him into the memory of his square jaw, the full lips set beneath a roman nose. His face still bore the stubble from this morning, now growing in a promise of a short beard.

I’ll remind him to shave in the morning as he looked so much better with a smooth jaw.

***

I had met Devin at a wedding party where we shared a dance and a drink, but I remained standoffish after that. I had just left a relationship that went nowhere and I was in no hurry to get into another one. Devin didn’t ask for my number which led me to believe he wasn’t as interested as he had seemed to be, but then I later learned he didn’t need it. He already knew we went to the same college.

Though we both went to different courses, he kept catching up to me in the quad between classes. He’d walk me the rest of the way to my next class, chatting and flirting with me as we walked together. Eventually, I agreed to go out for coffee one afternoon. After that, we met regularly in the food court for lunch, sometimes sharing dinner together in the diners off campus.

After a few weeks of dating, I finally asked him what church he went to. When he told me he didn’t go to church I tried to convince him to come with me one Sunday, but he refused saying he needed that time to study because he had a part-time job on weekdays. He said he loved me, and he did believe in God, but he had too many things to accomplish in this life before he worried about the next. I almost - almost - broke things off with him at that point, but I didn’t. Maybe it was because my last relationship with a Catholic man had been so disappointing that it compelled me to give Devin, a non-Catholic, a chance. 

My father introduced my last boyfriend to me shortly after I graduated high school. He was a manager of one of my father’s restaurants and was only a few years older than me with fair hair and blue eyes, with a handsome face with a boyish softness. I dated him with father’s full approval as he was a well employed Catholic man. But I soon found a problem with this golden beau.

He didn’t want a girlfriend or a wife. He wanted a caretaker, a carbon copy of his mother who still doted on him as she did when he was an infant. Early into the relationship, I was expected to cook his meals, drop his shirts off at the dry cleaners, and tidy up his house while he was at work, leaving little time for me to study for college. At first, I was more than happy to be of help, but then that was all there was to the relationship: me waiting on him while he rewarded me with a smile and a chaste kiss on the cheek.

It wasn’t until he hinted that I should forego college and marry him, that I broke it off. It was a messy affair with him demanding I tell him what he had done wrong, my father being confounded by how I could turn down what he perceived as a solid Catholic man of character tried to interrogate me on what had happened to soil the relationship, and even the ex’s mother scolded me over the phone for spurning her son.

I kept my dating Devin a secret from Dad, knowing he would lose his mind if he learned of his daughter dating a non-Catholic man so soon after turning one down. I honestly had no idea where this relationship could go until after months of dating, Devin proposed to me for the first time.

The first time, he had been joking during an outing in the college quad. We had been sitting together enjoying the afternoon sun and having lunch when we started talking about the where we saw ourselves in five years.

I said I would teaching fifth graders literature, poetry, and masterminding a school play. He said he would be running his own work crew on construction sites and married to me. We both laughed and he jokingly said he was willing to go to the courthouse and sign a marriage certificate with me right now. I told him my father would kill him and disown me so I couldn’t marry him.

It wasn’t until the following week while we were having lunch in a cafe, that he told me that he hadn’t really been joking when he said he wanted to marry me. His face was somber and his eyes as clear as the blue skies above us. For the first time, I considered it, but I still said no. My father would be furious if he discovered I was dating a man who wasn’t Catholic and he would simply die of shame if I married one. I said that we should take a break and get our heads on straight. I hated the words as I said them. Going on a break was just a softer phrase for breaking up. 

For a month, we didn’t see each other. I was crestfallen, which soon turned into depression, believing I would never see Devin again. I dearly missed our lunches together and being with him, but the fear of how my father would react kept me from seeking him out. It was better this way, I kept telling myself, I should move on and focus on my studies and worry about finding a man to love once I finished college. 

One night, the RA knocked on my door, telling me there was a man outside the building asking for me and would not leave until I spoke with him. She wanted to call the police, but I asked her not to. Devin was standing on the front steps waiting. I came out wearing a light wrapper around my PJs. “What is it, Devin?” I asked in a low hiss, feeling the eyes of my roommate and whomever she could rouse at this hour watching me from the windows. “The RA is about to call the cops on you.”

“I just . . . I just need to say one thing and then I’ll go,” Devin said, taking my hands in his. He held my hands tightly with hands rough from years of manual labor. “I love you. I know it’s something anyone can say, but for me, it’s written on my heart. I need you in my life, Bridget. We’ve only known each other less than a year, but when I try to remember what it was like before I met you, I can’t. It’s as if you’ve always been there in my life and I just now found you. So I want to ask you one more time, and if you say no, I’ll leave you alone, no matter how much it hurts me to do it. Will you please marry me, Bridget Moore?”

This time, I said yes.

It was nearly six weeks later before I had the courage to tell Dad about Devin. I knew the right thing would be to do it in person, but I just didn’t have the courage. After saying a lengthy prayer for strength, called Dad via video-chat and broke the news to him.

He was quiet for a long time after I finished talking before he finally said, “And how long have you known this pisser?”

“Almost six months,” I said ignoring the pisser comment.

“And that’s long enough to know a bloke?”

My throat tightened, but I held firm. “Dad, you were expecting me to marry the last guy after dating him for one month.”

I shouldn’t have brought him up as my father still felt raw about it. “He was a devout Catholic man with a good job and income. I still do not understand why you turned him down, but it’s too late now. He’s already taken with Sabrina York.”

I kept myself from snorting, but I did think of how Miss York would make a good second mother for my ex. “Devin is a good man and he works very hard at his job and school. You’ll like him once you meet him.”

“What church does he go to?” Dad gazed at me intently.

I swallowed, casting my eyes to the side, betraying my discomfort. “I didn’t meet him in church.”

“I didn’t ask where you met him, I asked what church he goes to.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He does go to church, doesn’t he?”

There was no getting around it now. Better to handle it like a band-aid, rip it off quickly and deal with the sting afterward. “He doesn’t go to church. He’s not Catholic.”

There was a bob in his throat and his eyebrows rose sharply and then lowered like wriggling caterpillars. “He’s not Jewish, is he?”

I shook my head, “No, Dad, he’s not Jewish and that wouldn’t matter if he was. He’s not... .anything.”

“He’s not a fucking atheist, is he?”

I was in trouble. My father only used such language when he was furious and rarely around me. He didn’t even speak like this after I dumped the man he chose for me. “No, he believes in God, but he doesn’t go to church. He works and studies on Sundays.”

“Then he’s a bloody atheist if he doesn’t uphold the Sabbath.”

“That is not fair,” I said heatedly. “I’ve seen you working in your office before evening worship.”

“But I bloody well attended evening worship, didn’t I?” He growled, his craggy face wrinkling up like an angry old dog. “Is he going to convert?”

I silently prayed for strength, “Dad, he’s not interested in church at all. I tried to get him to go with me, but he didn’t want to and I’m not going to pressure him.”

“Then why are you marrying him!?”

“Because I love him and he loves me!” I said trying to keep my temper under control. “My mother wasn’t Catholic when you met her.”

“She converted and then I married her!”

We went back and forth like this for the next hour, our tempers flaring hotter and hotter until I hung up. Afterward, he texted me, ordering me to move back home for the semester so he could talk me out of this foolishness. When I refused, he threatened to pull my tuition and I said that’s fine, I could move in with Devin if I had to. He swore the priest of my church would never agree to marry us. I told him Devin and I had already visited the priest and he agreed to perform the sacrament as long as we promised to raise our children Catholics. Then he vowed he would never send so much as one cent to us and I said that Devin already has a job and a house and I was looking for part-time work so he could keep his money.

Then came the promise he would keep. He would not be coming to the wedding. I told him that that was fine too. I could get married without him there. And as he sworn he didn’t show up for our wedding, but he was gracious enough to send my mother’s wedding dress for the ceremony. He still didn’t come, even after I sent him an invite with a heartfelt note begging him to overlook Devin’s lack of religious fervor and be there to walk me down the aisle.

It had been a small ceremony consisting of our friends and his family. My side of the aisle was devoid of my father, but our housemaid, the girls I went to school with came, and even some of the teachers from private school were among the guests. Dad never showed up and I was devastated.

I thought to have my father absent on my wedding day was the worst that could happen to me. I was such a child back then.

***

The Galra attacked D.C and New York City first at 8:04 PM. In Limerick, Ireland, I was sound asleep at 1:04 AM. Devin had woken in the middle of the night and was using the toilet when he saw the purple hues in the sky through our bathroom window and turned on the news. After two minutes of watching the emergency broadcast, he roused me.

“Bridget, get up, c’mon, we got to go now,” he said as he turned on the lights and threw open our closet. He began towing out the luggage we had packed beforehand.

I was still half asleep, squinting against the light. I was wearing my white maternity nightgown and it whispered across the sheet as I sat up, shielding my eyes. “What is it?”

“It’s happening.” After setting the cases on near the door, he began dressing, pulling jeans over his boxers. His body, tanned from the sun and toned from heavy labor, moved quickly, almost frantically. “It’s all over the news. They just hit New York and London. A news report said they got troops on the ground in France.”

My heart leaped into my throat and I solemnly wriggled out of bed, my belly squirming as Connor protested being disturbed so late at night. I pulled on a pair of loose fitting pants and pushed my feet into a worn pair of sandals and followed Devin downstairs. He carried the suitcases out to the car while I gathering cans and placing them in bags. We had discussed what we would do when the attacked happen numerous times and made plans.

He had a friend who said we could go to his cabin outside of Churchtown village. We would avoid the main road, N20 and take the backroads. It’ll be a further drive, but we won’t get stuck in the exodus of refugees fleeing the city. My heart went out to the people under attack, but I dearly hoped that Limerick wouldn’t be considered a good target. At least, not until after we had left the city.

Devin came back inside to take a paper bag with canned food to the car while I went to the fridge to get the galleon of potable water we had stored there for this event. I kept taking calming breaths, to stave off the panic that threatened to seize my throat. Devin and I had planned for this, we were going to be alright, I told myself over and over like a mantra. 

The night was cold despite the summer heat of the day before. Cars were at the edge of driveways being loaded with bags and luggage. Parents were leading children in their nightclothes to back seats with blankets. Mothers crooned comforting words about late night drives and they would come back soon all the while fear glinted in their eyes. People kept watching the sky, which was clear, the stars watching with malignant intensity. Others were pointing out the distant purple glow in the horizon.

Then began the long exodus of cars. Some turned off towards the north, others east and west, and some went south with us. It wasn’t long until the traffic came to a halt with horns blaring and people cursing each other to hurry or get out of the way. Devin stayed quiet, eyes on the road ahead, moving the car inch by inch when space was provided. I was on the phone with Dad, assuring him we were leaving Limerick right now.

“I wished the arsehole would have let you come to Liverpool,” Dad groused.

“We don’t know if Liverpool is any safer. Are you evacuating?”

“No. I’m staying where I am. I built this house where I raised my family and I’ll die in it whether it's in my bed or being shot by alien bastards.”

“Please, don’t talk like that,” I pleaded.

“Where are you now?”

“We’re trying to get on M20 . . .”

“Doesn’t that blasted fool know the main roads are going to be hell right now?”

“Dad, please!”

“You need to get on R511. That’ll get you south and off the main road.”

“We tried, but everyone has the same idea. All the roads leading out of Limerick are full of cars. We’re doing the best we can. Please, get yourself somewhere safe. I’ll call you later.”

I hung up before he had a chance to speak. Possibly a foolish and selfish thing to do at a time like this, but I was a nervous wreck. Connor was wriggling inside me, Devin was scaring me by his stoic silence, and I was getting this tightness around my middle.

***

I dozed off after watching Devin maneuver through traffic for two hours. A dull cramp spread through my belly, but I ignored it to focus on where we were. We were coasting down a dirt road beneath a morning sun. A spasm in my stomach startled me and I sat up, suddenly fearful.

Devin looked over at me, “We’re safe for now.”

“Where are we?”

“Not sure. The GPS cut out an hour ago.”

I checked my phone. “I can’t pick up a signal.”

“I don’t think you will. The radio stopped working too. The last thing it said was the Galra had landed in Asia and the Americas.”

“What about Ireland?”

“I don’t know. I think they’re going after all the bigger countries first, but we won’t be far behind.”

Despite what he said, I tried the radio which only gave a rough static. The GPS crawled with a lost signal message and my phone never found another signal. I scanned the horizon which was clear ships or any purple lights in the sky. We passed a man walking with a dog and a little boy along the road. I thought Devin was going to stop and ask for directions, but he didn’t. We went by and the child waved at us as we passed.

As if sensing my question, he said, “They probably don’t know what’s going on and I think we should stay away from other people, at least for a while.”

“Why?”

His lips were set in a grim line and his eyes glanced at me and then switch back to the road. “Nothing is going to be the same again and everyone is going to figure that out sooner or later. It’s going to be every man for himself until the aliens do whatever they are going to do.”

On a hunch, I opened the glove compartment. Eva’s gun was there along with the extra clip and box of bullets. I closed my eyes realizing my naivety. The gun would have no effect against superior alien technology. It was meant to defend us from other people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace muse blog.


	2. Chapter 2

We arrived at the cabin by mid-afternoon, as the sun was lowering from its zenith. Devin had been driving lost for most of the morning.  We parked on side of the road to eat while the engine cooled. He tried to determine where we were with a wrinkled old map. Once we got going again, he drove and I navigated with the map unfurled across the dashboard and my belly.

The cabin was several miles east of Mallow and south of Blackwater river.  The car trundled along an uneven dirt path, jostling us. I held onto my stomach with one hand and hoped the bouncing wouldn’t disturb Connor who had fallen asleep.  The cabin was perched on a hill with stone steps leading the front door. A sedan was parked with the boot propped open and a teenage boy pulling bags out of it.

Devin slowed the car down, “Who the hell is that?”

I asked, “Did your friend say there would be others?”

“No,” Brian said in a hard tone.

The teen dropped the bags and called for his Pa as we pulled up. The front door opened and a large man with a heavy paunch stepped out with a shotgun cradled in his hands.

“Stay in the car,” Devin told me as he got out, despite my best efforts to catch his sleeve. He held up his hands showing he had no weapon and came around the car. “This is private property!”

“Move on!” The man waved the shotgun at Devin. “No such thing as private property anymore, laddie. We all got to stake our claims.”

The teen was brandishing a cricket bat that seemed to appear out of nowhere.  He was giving Devin a fierce look, also taking pride he was helping his father defend the family. Peeking from behind the large man was a woman with graying hair in a blue cardigan.  She was holding back a young boy by the arm. The boy had red hair like his father and brother and was staring down Devin with familial pride.

“We came all the way from Limerick . . .” Devin started but was cut off abruptly by the father’s loud guffawed.

“Well, bloody good for ye, laddie, but we come from Dublin,” the father said, able to fill the doorway with his girth. “We were here first and here we’ll stay until this business with the Galra is done.”

I couldn’t see Devin’s face, but I saw the tension in his shoulders. He was slow to anger, but it was there, bubbling beneath the surface. The gun was scaring me and I remembered we had a gun ourselves, but I didn’t want to bring it out and escalate the standoff. I never used a gun before and I doubted Devin had either.

“This cabin belongs to a friend of mine and he said we could stay here . . .” Devin started but was interrupted again.

“So ye say,” the father said with a sneer, “but listen to what I’m telling ye.  Shove the fuck off or I’ll be perforating your arse with buckshot.”

My heart nearly stopped when he leveled the gun at Devin’s chest. A cold sweat broke out across my neck and I opened the door, “Devin, please, let’s go!”

“Bridget, stay in the car!” Devin snapped without turning around. “I’m handling this.”

“Better do as ye wee wifie says, Devin,” the father jeered. There was a wild gleam in his eye of a man who was unused to having such power and was getting drunk off it. Maybe he had been an accountant who had worked at a desk in an 8 to 5 job and became accustomed to doing as he was told.  Now here he was holding a gun on another man at what may be the end of the world or maybe he’s a damn dick.

After a long silence, Devin stepped backward. “We’re leaving. I hope the bloody place burns down around you thieving bastards.”

The man’s face turned bright red. “Ye calling me family thieves, ye snot? Then maybe we should take everything ye have and leave ye to rot on the side of the road?”

Before Devin could explode, the woman touched her husband's shoulder, “Peter, she’s pregnant.”

Then just like that, the venom was taken from his anger. He didn’t lower the shotgun, but the tension ebbed away from him. Without anger flushing his face, he took pasty with reddish stubble covering his lower face. He waved the gun at Devin. “Get on with ye.”

I remember the woman’s eyes watching me as Devin returned to the car. They were filled with sympathy, but there was sharp flint in them.  She was a mother and though I was soon to be one too, she had two children to protect and if that put me out, then so be it. It was her mercy that let us leave there without violence.

Yet, her mercy did little to ease the rage boiling within Devin. He was squeezing the steering wheel so tight the knuckles were white and his hands shook. He drove away from the cabin faster than necessary. I was angry with Devin, the family who stole our hiding place, with the Galra who brought this threat hanging over all our heads. I should be running Devin ragged with cleaning the house and spending money on baby clothes and toys. Now, I was afraid and almost resentful of being pregnant as it was another burden we didn’t need.

“Devin, slow down,” I said.

Devin drew a hard breath and kept driving. His mouth was set in a tight line, grinding his teeth together. His eyes stared ahead fiercely as if he was hunting prey.

“Devin! Slow down before you run us off the road!”

He screeched to a halt. I braced myself on the dashboard, my baby bump almost touching it. We had stopped in the middle of the road before a crossroads. Devin cursed foully and smacked the steering wheel.  He flung open the door and got out. He stalked around the car kicking the tires and then glared off into the distance. I drew a deep breath with my hands resting on my belly. Connor was still sleeping, despite the earlier tension.

An outline of a small arm pressed against my palm.  It brought the fear home that this baby may be coming in the middle of an alien invasion. I would be far away from doctors, hospitals, and no midwives.   Chances were good I would not be under a roof when I gave birth. A sudden twinge squeezed my middle and I chewed my lower lip, fretful and wanting Devin back inside the car with me.

But he needed more time to calm down. Devin didn’t like being angry, especially around me. He carried the fear of becoming like his father who hit his wife and children at the slightest provocation, both real or imagined. I knew Devin would rather chop off his own hands before hitting me, but he didn’t trust himself.  His father drowned himself in the bottle that kept Devin away from drinking. He also feared becoming an alcoholic. It can run in families, he told me once.

The man might have reminded Devin of his father.  

Finally, Devin came back. He was still flushed from anger, but he was no longer seething. Upon shutting the door, he declared, “We’re going to be okay.”

“I know we will be,” I agreed, hoping I sounded as confident as I knew he needed me to be.

“We’ll ‘stake our claim’ somewhere else,” he said starting the car. “We can head to Lismore and see what’s along the way.”

See what? Was he suggesting we ‘stake our claim’ at another empty house? I found myself too tired to ask and my back was hurting.

I was so young back then, having never experienced pregnancy beforehand.  I had no idea that I was in the beginning stages of labor.

***

An hour later, I finally realized what was wrong with me and I was too afraid to tell Devin.  I hoped we would find some place to stay soon. We had passed other cars, most of them heading south. Once we saw the cars coming away from Lismore, we went north towards Ballyduff.

I finally told him outside of the village that I was experiencing contractions. He nearly drove us off the road when he looked at me in shock.

“Are you sure?”

“It keeps happening regularly; like the books say.”

“I’ll find a hospital,” he said, getting on the road to Ballyduff.

It was late afternoon, the sun was beginning its descent when we saw the Galra ship. It started as a tiny bead in the distance, we ignored as a bird flying high over the Muir Cheilteach.  Until it grew into a vessel. It reminded me of a scythe, long and angular with purple lights casting the land in an eerie glow. A burst of magenta drew a line from the undersides of the ship to the ground.  Shades of orange and amber burst from the ground with giant plumes of smoke. It was so surreal I didn’t grasp the gravity of what was happening until Devin brought the car to a screeching halt. The tires screeched into a U-turn in the middle of the road.

“FUCKING HELL!!!” He screamed flooring the pedal and the car lunged forward, tossing me backward.

I watched the ship in the rearview mirror and it continued to shoot at the ground, coming in from the east. Devin glanced at the rearview mirror panting through his parted lips as if he was running at full speed. It was getting larger as it gained ground on us, looming like a thundercloud and as lethal as lightning.

My lips were moving in prayer, but I didn’t know which one. So this was how I died? Killed by aliens? My baby not having the chance to take his first breath?

The car leaped off the road spending seconds airborne before landing on all four wheels. The tires spun ripping up grass and soil behind us before gaining purchase. The car shook as it rolled over rocks and uneven earth.  The engine roared with the determination that matched Devin’s eyes as he stared at a copse ahead. We were going so fast I was sure this was a suicide attempt on his part; killing us so we don’t suffer death at alien hands.

Then he slammed on brakes and tires tore the earth as the cat glanced off the bole of an ash tree.  We came to a halt just short of another. Then Devin bailed out of the car, charged around to my side, swinging open the door and hauling me out by the arm.

“If they can’t see us... .they can’t shoot us,” he said as solemnly as a prayer.

He drew me along behind him, weaving through the trees. The canopy blocked out the setting sun making it seem night had come early. There was a hill at the base of a tree, the roots twisted in the soil like swollen veins. Devin towed me along around the base, ducking us both against the bole.  He pressed my head against his torso, shielding me. I could only hear our breathing, air whistling through my nose and the panting through his chest. Connor squirmed inside, the running had frightened him. I stroked the side of my stomach, caressing his head through my flesh.

The ship moaned like a giant above our heads. A screech that rang in our ears cut the air and then there was an explosion close enough that I could feel the heat from it. It threw my hair across my back and my skirt wrapped around my legs. It happened again, then a third time. Each time, I knew we would die.

Then a minute passed. Another, then five minutes. The ship roared again, passing through the atmosphere above us and then away. We stayed hunched in silence waiting, listening until the ship was far away enough that we couldn't hear it. I slowly sat up, pushing against Devin’s chest as I did so, despite my poor aching back.

“They were trying to flush us out,” Devin said, but he sounded far away as if yelling across a game field.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of foliage burning and sap boiling within scorched trees. There was a loud rustle and cracking as a tree fell over smoking as leaves curled into blackening shells. The last explosion happened only yards from us.  My eyes watered from the smoke and I coughed into Devin’s chest as I broke down into tears. He held me close, tucking me to his chest and rubbed my shoulders, soothing me. I could hear his heart pounding beneath his chest.

I was able to collect myself to whisper, “I - I either pissed myself or my water just broke.”

***

The power cells in the car were drained, the engine maxed out in Devin’s mad dash for cover. I laid down in the back seat while Devin worked on the engine talking loud for me to hear him.

“I bet they’re going for anyone in a car,” he said from behind the open hood.

“Why? They don’t like cars?” I asked. I was fanning myself with a paper plate from the plastic eating utensils we packed with our emergency supply. I held a sweating water bottle in my other hand.

“Think about it. The first thing they did was cut off communication. I bet they did the same thing in New York and London.” Devin had removed his shirt to work in the heat. I regretted not seeing him shirtless right now, but then I doubted I could enjoy the view with my contractions taking up my attention. “They don’t want anyone driving off to warn the Defence Forces of where they’re coming from.”

It made sense, but it made things dangerous if the car was going to make us a target. I took a small sip from the water bottle. “So what do we do?”

“We go back to the cabin,” Devin said curtly.

I sat up, cringing as my back protested and dropped the water bottle. Thankfully I had drunk enough to keep it from spilling across the floorboard. I hauled myself up with hands on the back and front headrests. “Seriously!? You want to go back there after he nearly shot your head off?”

“What choice do we have?” His voice grew louder as he came around to the open door. He leaned in bringing his face on level with mine. “You want to have the baby out here? In the back seat? Or be out on the road so the goddamn Galra can shoot at us some more?”

“They’re not going to give us the cabin, Devin!” my voice rose several octaves as I began to panic.

“No, but we can stay with them,” he said, putting a knee on the edge of the seat and coming in further as if he were going to embrace me. “We’ll work something out with them. We’ll give them half our stuff or I can stay in the woodshed if they let you inside. The wife had two kids so she must know something about delivering babies.”

“I don’t like it,” I said, acquiescing despite my better judgment.

“I don’t like it either, but it’s our best chance.”

***

We waited until dark before we left the copse. A night sky would make it easier to see a ship and we could turn off the lights to ward off any attacks. Devin wanted me to lay down in the back, but I wanted to sit in the front.

“You’ll need another pair of eyes to keep watch,” I said, “and sitting up will be easier on my back.”

What I didn’t tell him was my contractions were getting closer together and more intense.  It was like a large hand was inside me clenching into a tight fist, squeezing my insides. Thankfully, they were brief, taking my attention away from the sky for only moments. The moon was casting an almost soothing light across the road allowing Devin to see without lights.

We could see the fires glowing hot in the north and south. We drove past a factory in flames. Fire choked through the windows, shattering glass as we passed. Surely no one was inside when it went up.

 Villages had not been spared. Across the river, fire danced across rooftops, yellow and red tongue lapping at the sky. I thought about the families who had chosen to withstand the invasion in their homes and I felt sick. Then I thought of our home burning and I teared up.

“Take a good look,” Devin said bitterly. “This is what the end of the world looks like.”

“Please, don’t say that,” I moaned. “The Defence Forces . . .”

“We lost,” Devin said with a dry laugh. “Surely you never thought we had a chance at winning this thing?” He pointed at the ceiling. “We lost the moment those purple bastards decided they wanted the planet.”

It wasn’t possible for me to be any more scared than I already was. It was as if my mind had been topped with fear and it was rolling off me like an overflowing cup. I received little moments of comfort when I prayed, a small reassurance that we were being watched over, but I still feared for our lives. God answered prayers, but sometimes His answers aren’t always what we want.

Devin sped up as we drew closer to the turnoff and a cloud had covered the moon almost causing us to miss it. Then I noticed the fire.

“Oh no . . .” I whispered.

Devin said nothing. The brilliance of the fire gave his face a sickly pallor. The flames created a myriad of light across the car.  The firelight flicked through the still standing, but scorched trees. It must have been a fierce blaze when it first started burning. The explosion had gutted the cabin, sending debris across the clearing.  Only the singed frames and smoldering stone chimney remained.

The car came to a slow stop and we stared in cold horror. Then Devin thrust open the door and leaned out the door retching. I reached over, patting his back, calling his name.

  _I hope the bloody place burns down around you thieving bastards._

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t wish for this to happen. . .”

“Jesus Christ . . .” Devin sobbed. “Why the fuck is happening? Why the fuck . . .”

“Shhh, it’s alright... .please, don’t say such things . . .” I would have said more, but then a contraction seized me, sooner and more painful than I was expecting. I moaned, clenching my teeth until it passed.

Devin got out of the car and ran around. “Jesus fuck!”

“Devin!” I said so horrified by his blasphemy that I forgot the pain.

He swung open my door and helped me into the backseat. “If we get through tonight, I’ll say a hundred Hail Marys. Just lay down and keep track of your contractions while I move the car.”

After moving the car into the cover of trees, Devin pulled out several blankets from the boot, our gallon of water, a lantern, and first aid kit. He brought it all to the side of the car and began arranging it within easy reach.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I recovered from a particularly tough contraction.

“Bridge, we’re on our own for this.” He said flipping open one of my pregnancy books and thumbed through the pages. The lantern was sitting on the floorboard lighting the car’s interior giving him a light to read. Lifting my head, I could see he had the book opened to the emergency labor chapter. It was a chapter I had ignored as I planned on admitting myself into the hospital once labor started. He was scratching behind an ear, the same habit he does when he’s examining under the hood of a car. “I think we can pull this off.”

“Dear Lord save me,” I sighed.

 “Don’t worry. Lot of women gave birth before modern medicine,” Devin said as he folded a blanket and gave it to me to use a makeshift pillow.

“Yes, and a lot of women died too.”

“You’re not dying from giving birth,” he said firmly. “We’re in the middle of an alien invasion. There are a lot of cooler ways to die.”

I laughed, “Blasted by death rays?”

“Or speared by an anal probe.”

I choked before peeling out a giggle. “Stop. This is too morbid. . .”

“Sorry,” he said setting the book aside, tented across the first aid kit. He laid his hands on my knees, “You’re going to be alright. The doctor said he’s in the right position and you’re both healthy so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t give birth with no problems.”

***

Less than an hour later, when my contractions were almost on top of each other, the Galra ship came back. I heard it before I saw it, the purple lights flashing like eldritch stars as the craft slid through the air. Devin hastily turned off the lamp putting us in the dark. I breathed low through my teeth.   Sweat made my nightgown stick to my skin and tendrils of hair clung to my face like dark red branches.

I was propped at the edge of the car seat, my nethers bared with my legs spread apart.  One foot set against the side of the door and the other on Devin’s shoulder. My knees quivered as a contraction twisted my middle, but I managed to bite back a cry that lingered at the back of my throat.

Suddenly, a huge spotlight circle appeared.  It passed over the cabin remains and slid across the clearing.

“Are . . .are they looking for us?” I whispered. My throat was so dry, it came out in a hoarse hiss.

“They might have seen the lantern . . .” Devin whispered back, staring at the ship. “They’ll give up in a second.”

“What if they send soldiers down?”

“If they see you, they’ll shoot back up to their ship. I love you, Bridge, but you’re not looking your best. You’ll scare the ghost out of ‘em.”

Devin was trying to make light of it to keep from revealing how afraid he was. Over his shoulder, I saw the circle of light crawling over the woodshed and then towards us. I cringed, imagining the car being shot and exploding with us in it. Devin would try to get me out of the way, but I was in no condition to move.

The circle of light swept to the edge of the trees, just yards short of us. Devin watched it in silence, his lips tight and I could see his mind racing behind his intense eyes. I froze, the only sound I heard was my heart in my ears. The light was getting closer, casting long strips of yellow across the grass, the edge of one only a foot away from Devin. We both waited, holding hands so tightly, our knuckles whiten.

Then the circle slid away.  My breathing hissed through my nose as another contraction wracked me, but I didn’t dare give it voice. I swallowed it back, clenching Devin’s hands so tight they shook from the effort. Then I felt my body shifting, moving Connor through me. I pushed.

A dull whine slid from my throat and Devin whispered, “I see him. Keep going.”

Dots of color floated before my eyes and the Galra ship was forgotten.  The burned cabin went to the past, and the fact I was giving birth in the backseat of a car fell back. All that mattered was what I was doing now. I pushed hard.

My head was filling up with cotton, my face tightened so hard it could have cracked.  I only breathed when my lungs demanded it. A blood vessel broke in my eye, my nails left thin gouges on the leather seat.  I was bent in half putting every fiber of my being into pushing.

“He’s almost here . . .he’s almost here,” Devin whispered, the Galra forgotten as he focused on the crowning head.

Tilting my head, I shut my eyes, blocking out the sight of the ship and its eye in the sky. Then I bore down with all my might. Devin cried out and I felt as if something had given, snapped like a rubber band stretched too far.  I collapsed backward, my body boneless, save for the throbbing skull. Little dots continue to swim before my vision and slowly faded as I blink. I didn’t think I could ever move again.

Then Devin laid Connor on my chest. “Look, Bridget, look, he’s beautiful.”

With renewed strength, I curled my arms around my baby as he drew his first breath and belted out a long cry. I kissed the wet, dark hair, and muttered endearments into the tiny ear. I couldn’t see his face well in the dark, but I stroked his nose and cheeks and traced his open wailing mouth.

Devin climbed in, squeezing himself onto the floor next to me. We soothed Connor together, speaking softly, rubbing his tiny arms and legs, and I hummed to him. And we watched the ship leave, heading east away from us. We stayed together in silence, huddled in the back of that car, on the first day of the invasion. We still had the afterbirth to deal with, but it was neat and tidy compared to the main event of Connor’s birth. Devin found the energy to get the blankets, the unsoiled ones, and cover us with them. He slept on the floor and I turned onto my side with Connor swaddled in a towel, tucked in my arms.

I praised God for giving me this wonderful peace amid so much turmoil. I asked Him to look over Connor and Devin. I prayed that I would have the strength to endure what was to come in the days ahead. Then I fell asleep with my baby in my arms and holding my husband’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	3. Chapter 3

We lived out of the car for five days. The family had unloaded and stored all their supplies in the woodshed which had only taken minor damage from the attack. We added several boxes of canned food, 24 water bottle bulk, and plenty of clothes and blankets to our own supply. If Devin had any grievances about looting the doomed family’s supply, he said nothing. I prayed for them and hoped they would have wanted us to take what we could since they no longer needed it. We slept in the car and took turns keeping watch, which wasn’t difficult as Connor kept us awake for night time nappy changes and feedings.

He was a beautiful boy with wispy hair as dark as Devin’s. His face was still round and soft as any newborn’s with the small pert nose and cherub lips. We turned a gym bag into a baby bed for him, filling the bottom with towels and tucking a folded blanket inside. Devin took a box cutter and removed the zipper teeth to keep Connor from getting scratched.

Before I became pregnant, Devin and I talked about going camping one weekend.  He enjoyed the outdoors and I could use the natural setting to fuel my inspiration for poetry.  We made plans, but something always came up and then I became pregnant. To think that it took an alien invasion to get us out here.

It was peaceful and beautiful, and I could see why someone would build a cabin here.  It almost allowed me to forget what was going on in the rest of the world. We still couldn’t receive any signal on the car radio or on my phone. I checked my phone every hour in hopes Dad was able to send a message through and by the third day I left it off in the car. By then, I was eager to stretch my legs and walk as I had spent two days recuperating in the backseat. The first day I slept for most of it and awaken to feed and bond with Connor. The second day I was able to sit up though with some difficulty.  I was determined to be mobile as I was suffering from claustrophobia from being inside the car for so long.

Devin spent that time going through the wreckage of the cabin. He didn’t tell me what he had done until later that second night.

“I think I know what happened,” he said morosely, sitting back in the front seat leaning back. He was holding a sleeping Connor against his shoulder. He took the first watch as Connor was certain to awaken if he needed me and then I would take over. “The arsehole with the gun was standing at the door and the small lad was in the corner with the mother when they died.”

I came to the same conclusion. “Please, don’t tell me that a - moron, I meant, that man shot at the ship after they blew up the car?”

“The gun was still in his hands,” Devin said ruefully. “If they had stayed inside and kept quiet, then the ship would have kept going. I can see the man bursting out the door and take a shot at the ship in some bloody stupid macho act to make himself feel like a man.  But it got himself and his poor family killed.”

Connor wriggled, pushing his face into Devin’s shoulder, making a soft whine. Devin patted his back until he settled. It wouldn’t be long before Connor woke and began wailing to for feeding. He was such a big eater.

Devin continued, “I keep thinking about what if we had been here?”

“Well, you for one wouldn’t have been foolish enough to take a potshot at an alien warship.”

“No, I mean, if I had stayed calm before and offered to share our supplies, do you think they would have let us stayed? Do you think I could have calmed him down and kept him from shooting at the ship?”

I wished he wouldn’t blame himself for wishing this down upon them. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t have to see to know he had that somber depth in his eyes whenever he regretted something. He had that same look whenever he thought about his childhood. “I don’t think so.  His wife was may have been yelling at him not to and it's possible his teenage son may have tried to stop him.”

Devin stiffened and then look at me over Connor’s head. “Teenage son?”

“He was outside unloading the trunk when we came along. Remember? He was looking at you as if he wanted to kick your head in.”

Devin was thoughtful and then his eyes widen, “I remember him now. I was so focused on the gun his Da was carrying I barely noticed him. He’s not in the cabin!”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not there, at least, I don’t think he is. The father, mother, and the boy are there, but not the big one. I’ll see if I can find him tomorrow.”

Devin never found the teenage boy’s corpse. He dug three graves with a shovel from the woodshed and buried the family side by side. I didn’t know the last rites prayer, never expecting I would have to use it, but I did say a prayer over each grave.  I hoped they were reunited in Heaven together.

On the fourth day, I realized that the reason Connor was so hungry all the time wasn’t that he was a big eater.  It because I wasn’t producing enough milk. His nursing would turn into comfort sucking with no results from either breast. My poor baby wasn’t getting enough to eat and, thankfully, we've been mindful enough to pack formula with a bottle to supplement his feedings. This was only a temporary solution until we ran out of formula or I increased my milk production.

On the fifth day, Devin said we needed to leave.

“We don’t know what’s happening out there,” he said that evening while I was letting Connor get what he could from my breasts. “but we can’t stay out here forever. The food and formula will run out and I want you seen by a doctor as soon as possible.”

“I’m fine,” I said. I was only bleeding a little and I was still too sore to walk far, but each day I was getting better.

“You just had a baby in the middle of the woods,” Devin pointed.

“But how do we know that there’s anyone out there? Much less a doctor?”

“I can go out and look . . .”

“No!” I cut off that line of thought before it began. “You are not leaving us. I’ll be sick with worry about whether you’ll come back or not. And what if something happens while you’re away?  Do I stay out here with Connor and wait forever? Whatever happens is going to happen to us together, alright?”

I spoke so vehemently, it disturbed Connor who stopped suckling to whine with small fists no bigger than strawberries. I crooned to him,f hushing him and giving him a jiggle, but my eyes were on Devin, daring him to contradict me.

His shoulders sagged, but lifted as he nodded, “Alright, we go together.”

Thinking back, we should have waited before leaving the cabin.

***

The sky was clear and pretty with few clouds. It was the sort of day I would have wanted to go for a walk or work in the garden, but every movement made me nervous. Could that a bird flying in the distance be a far-off ship? Was the mountain we were passing hiding a ship behind it? I soothed myself and Connor by rubbing his back as I looked from window to window.

We both agreed our first priority should be getting more formula for Connor and food for us. The closest place would be Mallow who carried several large stores. We had money, but I doubted there would be anyone manning the cash registers. Devin checked the gun in the glove compartment to make sure it would be there for if we needed it.

The streets of Mallow was empty upon our arrival. There had been fire damage, but it was secluded to a few buildings and cars which were husks of twisted metal. I didn’t see any of the dead bodies I had imagined littering the sidewalks and roads, like the aftermath of a battle. Instead, the streets were empty as if every soul had deserted. We coasted slowly through neighborhood watching the houses as we passed. I could see faces peering between curtains, drapes being tugged aside, and blinds threaded by fingers for eyes to peer through.

“There are people here,” I said indicating a house where a woman fearfully pulled her curtains together.

“Yes,” Devin said almost indifferent, glancing back and forth between the houses.

“Maybe we should ask someone . . .”

“I don’t want to take the risk of us receiving the same reception as that family in the cabin. But since their houses are still standing, we should head home if it's still there. We might as well wait for the invasion out in our own home.”

“You think we’ll be able to get into Limerick?”

“Of course. All the traffic was leading out of the city, not in,” He said taking a slow turn around a block. “We’ll still stop for food and supplies first though.”

The thought of going home elated me. We could put Connor down in the nursery and if the water was running, I could have a wonderful hot shower and sleep in my own bed. And I was desperate for somewhere familiar and safe.

I noticed a sudden movement from the corner of my eye. Standing in a large, sunny window with drapes swept to the side was an old woman. Her hair was set in short silver curls and her thick frame glasses sat askew on her nose from her frantic waving. She was mouthing words I couldn’t read with withered lips.

“Devin, that woman is . . .”

“Yeah, I see her and no, we’re not stopping,” Devin said, his hands gripped the steering wheel tight. “It could be a trap.  She might have armed men inside who’ll take our car and everything else we have.”

We kept going, but the old woman stayed with me. Pondering it, I decided that she wasn’t trying to beckon us over. She was trying to get our attention and conveying something I still couldn’t understand.

The first store we came to had shattered doors from previous looters.  Devin took the gun from the glove compartment and tucked it into his waistband. “If you hear gunshots, just get in the driver’s side and leave. Don’t wait.”

He was gone for twenty minutes before returning with bags full of formula, canned food, and water. He even had loaves of bread clenched in one hand. “There’s plenty of food inside. The looters went for the drugs and valuables and didn’t think to grab any food.”

Then he went back inside and this time he came back with a cart full of items and loaded them into the boot. Despite being relieved for fresh supplies and formula, I couldn’t help the ominous feeling weighing heavy in my stomach. The people were staying in their homes and not out collecting this food. True, it was possible they already had their own supply and had no need to search for more, but after five days? And the woman in the window had been trying to tell us something.

I voiced my worries to Devin when he got back in the car and he dismissed them. “Bridge, it’s okay to be paranoid at a time like this. We’ve been lucky so far and maybe it’ll see us all the way home.”

Our luck ran out once we left Mallow.

***

We took N20 north to Limerick. We hadn’t seen any ships and Connor was sleeping peacefully with a full tummy on my chest. I kept my eyes on the sky and having not seen any ships I was beginning to relax. Perhaps the worst was over and the Defence Forces were able to protect Ireland from the Galra. I only wished the radio would work so we could get updates on what was going on in the rest of the world.

Devin was enjoying the lax mood himself and was humming a song to as he drove.  He missed the afternoon music hour Ireland’s top radio station as he always liked driving with music on. I was checking to see if I still had music stored on my phone when an explosion nearly rocked the car off the road. It spun out of control, knocking me against the passenger door, banging my shoulder hard.

Devin screamed a curse and wrenched the steering wheel in a desperate bid to regain control. I braced myself against the dash and clutched Connor to my chest. His wailing struck through my ears like needles. The car screeched, swerving on the road, the tires leaving dark tread marks on the asphalt. It finally came to a rocking halt off the road, short of a foot from running into a waist-high stone wall.

My head was spinning, confusion and fear fought with each other to take precedence.  My maternal love took over and I looked over Connor. He was whole, but frighten, wailing with his tiny fists curled into balls from his exertion. Then I looked over to my husband.  He had smacked his head on the steering wheel and a streamer of blood was trickling down his temple. He was recovering, touching his head and focusing on the road. Over his shoulder, I saw what had fired on us and my blood chilled. That was when I realized what the woman had been trying to tell us. I could see her lips forming the words she was trying so hard to convey:

_ Stay off the roads. _

“Oh no. . .”

I don’t know who spoke, Devin or myself, but we both could see the shuttle hovering over us. It was rotating around and descending towards the road. The metal was so dark had a white sheen and purple lights glowed from opening doors.  Tall figures were standing at the edges waiting for the shuttle to lower enough for them to jump out.

“Open your window,” Devin said leaning over to the glove compartment.

“Shouldn’t you open yours?” I said nonplussed. He can’t shoot them from my window-side.

“Open your window!” He said. “Hurry!”

I did, pressing down on the switch. The shuttle was almost on the ground and Devin threw the gun out through the window. I stared, horrified as our only means of defense fell beyond our reach over the low stone wall and into the tall grass.

Seeing my offended look, he said, “They’ll kill us if they see we have a gun.”

Figures were coming towards us, five of them, all bearing rifle like guns. They all wore metal armor and helmets.  Three of them had bare chins and hands and the other two were completely covered in metal.

Devin took my face in his hands and kissed me fiercely on the mouth. Pressing his brow to mine, he said, “I love you and if I didn’t say it enough before, I’m sorry.”

There were no many things I could have said in the few seconds we had before they were on top of us. I love you, stay safe, don’t leave me, and please don’t get yourself killed. Instead, I numbly said, “Okay.”

The door was wrench open and purple hands hauled Devin out by the clothes and arms. Devin kept his hands in the air in surrender.  I cried out when he was shoved onto the ground so hard I was certain he broke something on impact. Then one came to my side of the car, threw it open and without giving me an order to get out, seized me by the hair. I yelped as my hair was pulled from my scalp and Connor almost fell from my arms. I held him tightly with both arms as I was forced around to the other side.  I was walking on the balls of my feet to keep from being dangled off the ground by the hair.

I was shoved onto my knees on the hot asphalt across from Devin who was kneeling with hands locked behind his head. Our eyes met and I could see he was terrified. I was beyond terror to the point I was calm.

They rummaged through the car speaking to each other in a raspy language. The two covered in metal (I would later learn they were robotic sentries) stood guard with guns pointed at our backs. From a distance, I had believed them average size.   But close up, I could see they all stood about seven feet tall with the shortest among them a little over six feet. When they spoke, I could see sharp white teeth between purple lips. Their clawed hands held the guns with fingers on the triggers.  One of them had bristling triangular goatees at the chin and jaw.

When they were satisfied we carried no contraband, (Thank God Devin had the foresight to deposed of the gun) they turned their attention to us. They were more relaxed, not as urgent as before, assured we had no means of defending ourselves. Goatee approached Devin with an almost swagger. He looked down his nose and demanded, “Where are you going?” His words were thick with an alien accent. He pronounced the words harsh as if he disliked speaking the language.

Devin stayed calm and answered, “Limerick.”

They exchanged brief words in their language, possibly deciphering where Limerick was. Connor was starting to cry again sensing the tension in me. His mouth gaped open and eyes shut as he belted out a frighten wail that broke my heart.

“Shut it up or I will,” a haughty voice ordered, tapping my temple with a gun barrel. This one sounded younger than Goatee. His jaw was narrower with a smooth complexion.  He had that strong sense of invulnerability that was the curse of youth. Believe he was untouchable and thus could do as he wished to anyone. He frightened me more than Goatee who seemed to be the leader of this squad.

I jiggled Connor almost frantically, crooning soft words to him and making shushing sounds. He calmed down, but whined, as if wasn’t certain if he should be calming down. Perhaps he should belt out a few screeches while he still could in this world.

The speaker continued with Devin. “Is this your mate?”

“Yes,” Devin replied, not daring to glance at me.

“And your kit?”

Did he mean to say kid, I wondered, or was it the accent?

Again, Devin said, “Yes.”

“Were you aware of the travel ban?”

I closed my eyes and remembered the old woman trying to warn us: stay off the roads. Why did I only understand it now when it was too late to take heed of her warning?

“No,” Devin replied. A butt of a gun cracked the back of his head. He grunted, swaying, but managing to remain upright.

“Don’t lie, primitive,” Goatee growled, then he turned to me, his red visor almost flashing at me in the sun. “Are you going to lie to me too?”

I shook my head, “No, sir.”

“Oh, this one has manners,” one of the others commented sardonically. This one had a scar slanting from the edge of his chin, narrowly avoiding the corner of his mouth.  He had the deepest voice and broader shoulders than the other two.

I looked across at Devin who looked back with wide, frightened eyes. His being so afraid scared me more than the Galra standing over me. This was all on me now. One wrong word and I could doom us to be killed on the side of the road like unlucky animals struck by cars.

“Where are you traveling to?” Goatee began.

Was he expecting I would give him a different answer? “Limerick, sir.”

“Were you aware of the travel ban?”

Was I going to get hit in the head with the gun? Would I be able to remain upright if he did and not crush Connor beneath me if I hit the asphalt?

“Answer the question!” Scar fisted my hair giving me a shake. Connor croaked, his wailing threatening to come back with a vengeance. I cupped the back of his head to keep from it hitting the ground if I should fall.

“Don’t touch her!” Devin yelled. As if on cue, the young Galra swung his gun, smacking Devin full across the face and sending him sprawling across the asphalt.

Before Devin even settled on the road, the Galra swung back a booted foot and caught him in the stomach with enough force to arch Devin’s back. Devin’s eyes rolled up in his head and I could hear the air being knocked from his chest in rattle wheezes. As if Devin losing his breath offended him the Galra began kicking him. Devin curled up into a retching ball, protecting his front, but leaving his back open for more attacks. The Galra attacker showed no signs of relenting as if intending on kicking Devin to death.

I screamed, lunging forward. What I would have done, I don’t know, for I was wrenched off my knees.  I dragged backward several feet, the rock’s rough surface tore at my jeans, tearing holes in them. I held tight to a screaming Connor desperate not to drop him on the hot asphalt.

Then I was thrown back and my head smacking the ground. When I was able to focus, I saw the barrel of an alien gun inch from my nose. It had a notch of purple crystal a few inches before the dark eye of the barrel and it glinted menacingly at me. Beyond the gun, I could see Scar looking down at me, his teeth white between his violet lips.

The other two hauled Devin up by the shoulders and held him. He was bleeding from the mouth and the side of his face was red from being on the hot asphalt. A string of spittle clung to his lower lip like a bungee cord and it vibrated from his pants. His eyes widen in horror when he saw me and the gun aimed at my face.

“Where are you going?” Goatee had to raise his voice to be heard over Connor’s howls.

“Limerick! We’re going to Limerick! We live there!” Devin cried panic lacing his voice.

“And why aren’t you in Limerick, then?” Goatee demanded.

“We evacuated with everyone else to get away from the fighting!” Devin moaned. His eyes swept from me to the gun, and the Galra holding the gun and then back to me. Over and over, as if he couldn’t register properly what was happening.

“You weren’t aware of the edict against traveling outside of the borders?”

“We’ve been living out in the woods. My wife gave birth days ago and she’s been recovering! We didn’t know anything, I swear! Don’t hurt her, please, don’t hurt her.”

Goatee turned its red visor to me. I could only take small breaths.  I didn’t dare to look at the barrel, knowing I would go into hysterics if I did. If I started screaming, Scar might kill me for the peace and quiet. The Galra looked down at me through the red visor, his head tilted and a wry smile on his purple lips. An edge of a tooth peeked from between his lips reminding me of a character from a cartoon I liked as a child. I think its name was Snaggle Tooth and it seems that Snaggle Tooth was mulling over killing me or not.

Is this how I die? Shot in the head in the road like a car struck dog with my baby in my arms?

“The primitive showed respect to her betters,” Goatee said offhandedly.

“She could show more respect . . .” The youth said leering.

“We don’t have time for that,” Goatee snapped. “And we don’t know what diseases they carry.”

I didn’t begin to breath normally until Scar drew his gun away. My body felt boneless, like a rubber band that had been stretched too far. So it seemed I was spared because of the manners my father drilled into me as a child. If I should ever see him again, I will thank him wholeheartedly.

Goatee barked some orders to the men and the youth snickered nastily. He took something bulbous like from his belt, twisted the top, and tossed it through the car window. Before I even had a chance to wonder what it was, the interior of the car burst into flames. Devin yelled and was shoved onto the ground again where he was given another vicious kick in the ribs.

We watched as all our supplies and possessions went up in flames. The fuel cells whistled as the heat caused the fluid within to sizzle and popped.  They left us there. Some of them jeered at Devin and one even patted me on the head as if I had performed some trick that pleased him. When they were gone, I limped to Devin who was sitting on his knees watching the car burn. I threw my arm around his neck and he held me.

Then we headed home on foot.

***

My sandals didn’t last one hour. The strap across my toes broke, but not before red blisters formed across the top of my feet. The other strap seemed to have the same idea from the way I noticed the plug threatening to pull out with each step.

Devin gave me his shoes. They were too big and made me feel like a little girl walking around in her father’s shoes. Devin walked along the grassy edge of the road in his socks. I offered to take turns wearing the shoes, but he claimed he was used to walking in bare feet from when he was a boy.

We did take turns carrying Connor who enjoyed the car ride more than walking and cried for long hours. He would settle after I fed him what I could. Sometimes we would stop and rest while I gave him some comfort suckling my dry breasts. Without the formula we had foraged from the store, he could only get what he could from my breasts. I would have wept, but my body was too dried out for tears. We carried him with a towel over his head for shade until the sun went down.

I worried for Devin as his breathing was becoming ragged.  He told me over and over he was fine, I was suspecting he had cracked, if not broken, ribs. The left side of his face was swollen where he had scraped it on the asphalt.  I wished we still had our first aid kit to clean it.

By the time we arrived in Limerick, our clothes were clinging to our sweltering bodies, were sunburned, our feet blistered, and we were both extremely exhausted and thirsty.  We found an ice parlor where a car had plowed through the front glass doors. Inside was a mini-fridge which still had water bottles. We stopped to quench our parched throats and pour cool water over our sweaty heads.

I began crying when we arrived home.  It was untouched with no damage whatsoever. Looters never had a chance to come out this far by the time the Galra took control. Our house was intact and it was so beautiful to see, a welcomed familiarity after days of so much fear and pain. We went inside, Devin having kept the key in his back pocket. We went upstairs together to our bedroom.

I kicked off Devin’s worn beaten shoes and Devin pulled off his shirt. I grimaced at the sight of the field of bruises on his back and ribs. The long walk must have been far harder on him that it was for me. We both crawled onto our bed and fell asleep with Connor between us. I was too tired to care about staining the sheets with sweat or dirt. We were able to sleep for almost an hour until Connor began crying.  We were finally able to provide plenty of milk as we had a supply of formula downstairs. Finally, my baby was able to eat his fill for the first time all day. He ate noisily with soft sucking gulps with white drops of milk dribbling down his chin. I think the nipple had too big a hole for him to handle, but I was too tired to care at the moment.

Devin showered while I fed Connor. The water was miraculously still running. To think, we could have stayed here and not have endured so much hardship outside of Limerick. From the corner of my eye, I took note of the gun sitting on the top of the commode.  Devin had collected from over the wall once the Galra were out of sight. He said he felt safer having it, but I hated the sight of it. What good had it done us?

When Devin finished, I passed him Connor and took my turn. Never before had a shower been so blissful. It washed away the layers of dirt and sweat, eased my painful feet and muscles, and hot water reinvigorated me. I was still exhausted and sore, but I felt better. When I came out in my wrapper, Devin was moving Connor’s bassinet. Poor Connor was sleeping as if he too was exhausted from the day’s events.  I crawled into bed with Devin and we held hands under the sheets. We lay in silence, neither of us speaking, but full of thought.

Finally, I said, “Will you be alright?”

“My ribs are going to try to kill me tomorrow, but I think I’ll make it,” he squeezed my hand. “I’m more worried about you.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying not to think of the cold dark barrel of a gun.

He rubbed his eyes and groaned, “I want to fall asleep and wake up to find that it was all a bad dream.”

“Me too,” I said, “I’m so grateful we’re back in our own home.”

“I’ll take stock of what we have tomorrow and if we need anything I’ll chance getting the shite kicked out of me again to get it.”

“I hope you don’t have to. I want you home with us.”

“We need things to survive, Bridge. I’ll only go as far as the corner market if I have to,” he said as he gingerly moved onto his side, hissing as his ribs protested. He curled an arm around my waist to comfort me as I was certain it comforted him to do so. “I hate they burned all our stuff. They didn’t have to do that.”

“They wanted to punish us, to show us who was in control,” I said. A sudden surge of anger rose in me. “Those fuckers.”

The word felt foreign in my mouth as I was taught not to swear by Dad. Yet, whenever I remember the gun, fear would touch my heart and soon follow by anger. How dare he point a gun at me! How dare they hurt my husband and terrorize my baby! And they burned the supplies we needed because they were attacking our country, our planet! We had done nothing to warrant being treated like that.

Angry tears pricked my eyes and with shaking shoulders I began crying. Devin kissed my brow and told me it was going to be alright. He told me that many times back then and I believed him. Soon, I was calm and comforted.

I could smell the soap on Devin’s skin, recognizing it as the brand I bought for him because I enjoyed the scent so much. It had a sweet, musky scent like suave cologne.  “If I wasn’t so sore and tired, and didn’t have to wait six weeks, I’d be jumping your bones right now.”

Devin stifled a laugh lest he wake up Connor. “With our baby son only feet away? Have you no shame, woman?”

Things were good back then despite the Galra. Between us, that is. I have no idea how I would have gotten through those first days of the occupation of Ireland if Devin hadn’t been with me. Having Connor brought us closer together than our own marriage. We should have stayed that way and would have if I hadn’t have been so naive back then.

For you see, I was the one who invited the devil into our lives. A month later, I met Takor.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	4. Chapter 4

For almost a month, we lived hand to mouth. Devin went out to fetch supplies from the store whenever the food and formula ran low. I was eaten up by anxiety while he was gone scavenging. I watched for him at the window, counting the minutes until he returned. 

Only ten minutes; I assured myself it was too early to worry. Twenty minutes; I reminded myself he hadn’t had time to arrive at the store. Thirty minutes; he would be returning soon. By forty minutes I was certain something had happened to him and he was either dead or dying. Then before the end of the hour, he would return laden with food and formula and find me nearly collapsing with relief. 

I tried to limit his supply runs by making the food last by preparing smaller meals. Such as a single egg on toast for breakfast, a dry sandwich for lunch, and we shared can of soup for dinner. Devin never complained and graciously ate whatever I made. He was accustomed to having scant meals during his youth. His mother used whatever money his father hadn’t drunk away to feed her children. 

My milk supply dried up despite my best efforts to increase the flow. I tried nursing more often, rubbing my breasts, to eating more, despite my own food rationing. Nothing worked. Then Connor refused to nurse. He cried when I offered my nipple, thus inducing my own tears of being a failure of a mother. To make matters worse, the formula was disappearing faster than we would have liked. 

We tried to ration the formula, but Connor's hungry cries would break our resolve and we fed him more. Devin made certain to bring back tins of formula each time he went out. Then came the day when he returned empty-handed.

“The Galra are in the stores.” 

“What?” I said nonplussed. I was bathing Connor in the sink. The water had remained on through the solar power was intermittent. We became accustomed to cool showers and I had heated the water on the stove and let it cool for Connor’s bath. 

“They have those robots loading food onto trucks,” Devin said as he looked out the windows. “I got out of there before they could give me another arse kicking.”

“Why? What are they doing? Trying to starve us?” Sensing my dismay, Connor began whining. I made soft soothing noises as I bundle him into a towel. 

“I don’t think so,” Devin said. Once he was certain there were no Galra on our lawn, he settled into an armchair sighing in relief. He still hadn’t recovered from the beating he received weeks ago. When he came to bed, he’d eased himself beneath the covers and I worried that he was hurting more than he let on. 

“What about Connor?” We only had half a tin of formula left. It was sitting forlornly on the counter as a reminder of how horrible a mother I am for not being able to nurse my own child.

“We try to make it last,” Devin sighed. “It won’t hurt Connor to go hungry for a bit between meals.”

“Then you walk with him while he cries!” I snapped. 

As if to back up my point, Connor began wailing, frightened by my raised voice. I held him close, kissing his head, and murmuring sweet words until he calmed down. Then I put him down for a nap knowing he would wake up within the hour demanding a meal from our dwindling formula.

Devin was still sitting in the armchair when I returned from the nursery, my anger abating, “I’m sorry for yelling . . .”

“No, it’s alright. I’m pissed too,” Devin said raking fingers through his hair. “I tried going to the market off Dodger’s street, but I saw a truck heading that way. I even caught a glimpse of them inside a pharmacy.”

“What are they going to do with it all? Surely they have food and medicine for themselves.”

Devin said, “I think it’s going to be their leverage over us. Do as we say and we’ll give you food and medicine.”

“So, I guess that means they don’t want to kill us,” I said though I didn’t feel relieved.

***

Three days later, Devin’s theory proved true.

We received no news about the war. The radio and television only received broadcast announcements from the Galra. They gave off a list of rules verbatim through thick accents choking on the English words. The tv screen scrolled from the bottom up with the same rules written in a dozen languages. 

Curfew was from 6:00 AM to 6:00 PM. Anyone caught outside was subjected to arrest or being shot on sight.

No one was to approach any Galra troops or vehicles. Anyone doing so was subjected to arrest or being shot on sight.

Attacking any Galra troops or vehicles was subjected to being shot on sight.

And on and on, over and over again. There was no question now whether we had won or lost the war. The Galra were already making themselves at home. We could see the ships landing in the distance. Buildings were being commandeered and equipment and personnel moved inside. At night, sleek vehicles with purple tinted lights would patrol the streets. We stayed away from the windows and watched them go by. Their lights shone through the curtains, casting the room in an eldritch light. 

On the day I met Takor, we were scraping the bottom of the formula tin for Connor. We tried to use only half a scoop, but Connor knew the difference and refused the bottle after a few suckles. I was beside myself with worry about feeding him. No other houses on our street had the formula to loan us nor a nursing mother to turn to. 

That morning, I was laying in bed with Connor. Most nights we slept with him between us, each of us taking turns seeing to his needs throughout the night. I watched his tiny chest rise and fall with each deep breath and listened to the soft sighs of his breathing. His face had become longer over the month, no longer short and squashed, but round and beautiful. My hand was on his chest, fingers splayed over the tiny bird-like ribs. I felt a wonderful life thrumming inside. Again, I felt that amazement that all new mothers felt for their first child. This had been inside me, apart of me, this that had come from nothing was now the core of my life.

I slipped my thumb into the curl of Connor’s hand and took pleasure when he squeezed it in his sleep. His lips turned up in a small smile. The books say it’s a reflex, a defense mechanism to make babies endearing so adults were willing to care for them despite the constant crying and wetting. Whenever I see it I believe he understands who I am to him. 

The door swings open, startling me. Earlier, Devin had gone downstairs to prepare a meager breakfast. Now standing in the doorway with wide eyes. “They’re going to from door to door getting everyone out into the streets.”

I rose, disturbing Connor who mumbled in his sleep. “What do they want with us?”

“I don’t know. Go ahead and pull on jeans and shoes. It won’t be long before they’re beating down our door.”

“What about Connor?”

“Bundle him up and take him with us. We don’t know - we don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” The words ‘I don’t know if we’ll come back’ almost left his lips. 

I barely had my shoes on before there was door rattling banging downstairs. Devin went downstairs and I gathered Connor up in his blue baby blanket. He muttered until I laid him on my shoulder where he settled back to sleep. I kissed his perfect little ear and held him close as we went downstairs. I made soft comforting noises not only for him but for me as well.

It was those armored robots again. They both had guns and ordered outside. Our neighbors were huddled in the middle of the street. Families clung to each other in knitted groups. Lori Douglas from down the street tried to soothe her mother who looked to be the verge of hysteria. The patriarch of the O’Brian family, from the end of the block, looked furious. His face was red and I feared he was going to do something dangerous that would get the rest of us hurt or killed.

Our crowd was herded up the street which blended with another crowd from another block. As we reached a crossroads, more people joined our mob and more robots propelled us forward. The sun was bearing down on us and the air reeked of fear and people who hadn’t had their morning shower yet. I held a corner of Connor’s blanket over his head to keep the sun off him. Devin walked with an arm around my shoulders, shielding and keeping me close to his side. Unlike most of the others, we had experienced firsthand the Galra’s brutality.

We were taken to a courthouse though it was hard to recognize at first. The Galra had almost finished renovating it. Sleek vehicles filled the parking lot and metal reinforced the brick walls. Galra soldiers were milling about working, reporting, and eyeing us through red visors.

“Those are the trucks,” Devin whispered into my ear. He made the slightest of motions with a hand towards large vehicles parked at the back of the courthouse. “I saw them loading food and medicine onto those same trucks.”

There were several guards standing between us and the courthouse, all with guns. A shiver went down my spine as an ominous memory of looking up into the barrel of a gun. I swallowed and looked away before I drew their attention. People began whispering and muttering to each other until a Galra appeared. He was holding a tablet which he scrolled with a flick of a claw tip. Then he began calling out names.

“Hayes! Smiths! Murphys! Collins!” He called out both familiar and unfamiliar family names. A dreaded silence swept across the crowd as one of the Collins moaned in terror. When the Galra finished rattling off names, he motioned inside, “Go inside! Do not talk! Do not cause problems because we don’t like problems, but we do like solving them!”

Up to hundred people went inside. A daughter helped her enfeeble grandfather up the steps. A mother put on a brave face and took her two little ones by the hands and followed the others inside. The double doors shut behind them with a dull knock and the rest of us listened in silence. Perhaps for screams or gunshots, but none came. The minutes passed and people began to fidget. A man demanded to know what was going on and was rewarded for his outcry with a butt of a gun in his mouth. The crowd buzzed with outrage but fell silent when guns were aimed.

Then the doors swung open again the Galra with the datapad called out more names. As people were going forward, a side door swung open and familiar faces came out. Relief broke the tension and people made inquiries to those who returned.

A woman said before she was hurried away by her husband, “We’re fine, everyone’s fine.”

It seemed that Devin’s prediction about the Galra using the food as leverage had rung true. The tension bled from my shoulders. More people went in and more people trickled out. 

After nearly an hour, our name was finally called. We walked up together, Devin’s arm still around us. I laid the blanket over Connor hoping a little darkness will encourage him to sleep a bit longer. We hadn’t brought a bottle along and he would be demanding it when he awakened.

I had been to the courthouse before to renew a driver’s license, but now I did not recognize it. Walls had been strip and replaced with dark metal with glowing purple inlays. Robots took positions by doors and open spaces, all holding guns at attention. People huddled together as they were led into the courtroom. The wooden benches were still there and we were directed to sit on them. The jury stands had been removed to make room for equipment I didn’t recognize. More armed Galra were standing at the sides watching us. Their faces were hidden behind visors such as the ones who accosted us on the road back to Limerick. I looked, but I didn’t recognize any of them and I was grateful for that. 

Sitting behind the large judge’s bench was another Galra, but he wasn’t wearing a helmet. All eyes were on him, taking in his golden eyes and long angular ears that swivel and twitch like a cat’s. He was scratching behind one of them with a stylus in a bored manner and yawned giving us a glimpse at sharp canines. He had been doing this all morning and it was becoming dull work. 

We sat in the third row, beside an elderly couple who held hands. The benches creaked and shoes scuffled, but there was no whispers or coughs. A child complained but was quickly silenced. Connor stayed asleep, though shifted, rubbing his face into my collarbone. 

The Galra at the judge’s bench began speaking in a brusque manner, “Your planet is now part of the Galra Empire, lead by Emperor Zarkon, First in his Name, Lord of the Known Universe, Who has Reign for 10,000 Years and May His Reign continue for another 100 Centuries.” He paused, letting that sink in for a few moments before continuing, “Your military has fallen under the might of the Empire forces, your government has wisely surrendered and the administration disbanded. Ireland, as you call it, is now under the control of the Galra.” 

My mouth felt as if it was full of sand. I glanced at Devin, but his eyes were fixed on the Galra, his hand an iron vice on my shoulder. 

“You need not fear. You are all invited to become citizens of the Empire,” the Galra said with no trace of reassurance. He was looking at us in grave warning. “You will be given rations upon completing the oath to serve the Empire. Names will be called and you will follow a sentry to a registration station. Vrepit Sa.”

As if on cue, a sentry stepped from the wall to stand in the open hallway waiting. In the same order as outside, the names were called again. One family rose and a sentry led them down the hall. Then another sentry would move from the wall to stand in place for the next family and so on.

Though I was feeling relieved, Devin was still tense, his eyes following each family as they followed a sentry out of the courtroom. I whispered, “What’s wrong?”

“What happens if you refused the oath?” he said into my ear. 

A chill crawled down my spine and I too watched the family worried again. Then our name was called. We both rose together and walked hand in and towards our sentry. We were taken down a long hall. The offices had been remodeled to serve as registration stations with a Galra administrator and robot in each one with a family. As we passed one room, an angry voice said, “No, I will not take the damn oath.”

We paused and stared through the doorway. There was an old man standing before a desk where a Galra sat who was looking more annoyed than offended. A young woman, likely his daughter or young wife was trying to cajole him.

“You have to,” she pleaded with desperate eyes looking desperate between the old man and the impatient Galra. Her hair was wet as if she had just stepped out of a shower before the summons. She had pulled on sweatpants and a wrinkled halter top. Goosebumps were spread over her arms as she tried to reason with the old man who had donned a housecoat. “They won’t let us go if you don’t.”

“I will not betray Ireland by saying the goddamn alien wash,” the old man said, his face turning scarlet. “No one in my family will have anything to do with this goddamn Empire either.”

The Galra’s ears twitched backward, eyes narrowing. A sentry moved from the wall and the young woman began to panic. “Wait! Wait! He’ll say it. He’s old and confused . . .”

The man looked so offended that he could hit her. “I’m in my right mind, Laura! Don’t you dare make me out to be some senile old man. You want to swear allegiance to some purple pussycats from space, then you go right ahead, you treacherous bitch!”

Dear Lord in Heaven! She’s trying to save you, you doddering idiot! I thought, the urge to say the words aloud almost brought them to my lips. 

The poor woman was in tears, looking in misery at the sky for divine aid. The Galra had enough, “Last chance, O’Malley, say the oath.”

I gasped in horror when the old man spat at him. Then what happened next happened so fast it was a blur. The sentry threw the man against the wall, producing force shield shackles. The woman screamed and began pulling on the sentry's arm. The Galra snarled, showing off sharp incisors. “Take him away!”

Our sentry ordered us forward. I would later come to believe it let us watch the show as a way of warning of what would happen if we refused the oath. We continued to the next office and the woman’s weeping and the old man’s curses followed us.

The Galra behind the desk regarded us with impassive eyes. They flitted between me and Devin, stopping for a moment to take in Connor, and then onto his desk. “Devin and Bridget Walsh?”

“Yes . . .sir.” Devin added, remembering how the show of respect had saved my life a month ago. 

The Galra scooted a disc into the middle of the desk and pressed a switch on the side. A hologram rose a foot above it from a cone shape reddish light. Before us, glowing in hues, was a circle with a shape of a hand in the middle and words etched in light above it. “Place your hand on the circle and read the words out loud.”

Devin went first. Upon placing his hand on the circle, it glowed white and the words came into focus. 

“From this day forth, I am a citizen of the Almighty Galra Empire,” Devin read aloud. “I will serve my Galra Masters and in doing so serve the Lord of the Known Universe, Emperor Zarkon, may he Reign 100 Centuries more. If I should break the laws of the Empire, my citizenship shall be forfeit and I will submit to the penalties for such betrayal. Be it death, enslavement, or forfeiture of possessions. I give myself and my children,” he glanced at Connor, “to the rulership of the Empire, may it strength reach across the universe and Beyond, and may it last from now to the End of Time and Beyond.” 

With the oath completed, the disc made a small chime, recording Devin’s citation and logging it. The Galra reset the oath for my turn. While holding my baby, I pledged myself to the Empire’s protection - or lack thereof. Once my oath was completed, the Galra took the disc and set it aside. “We’ve calculated your assets into gac - Galra Approved Currency - and deducted the penalties for opposing the Empire's rule.”

“Wait, we - we were penalized for the war?” Devin asked incredulously. He managed to keep his voice low and respectful, but the Galra was still piqued by the interruption.

“Galra rule is the natural order of the Universe. Your government was given plenty of time and incentive to surrender, but Ireland resisted. We lost troops, sentries, and resources taking this island. Thus Ireland’s people must pay the price. Be thankful that we’re taking our pound of flesh financially and not literally.” He tapped a few bars on the screen and turned it to us. “Here is your calculated net worth.”

We stared. The above amount was the gac currency and below that was translated into euros. 

Devin swallowed, looking almost queasy. “There should be more zeroes.”

“It’s correct,” the Galra clipped with a sharp tip of a claw on the desk. 

We weren’t rich, but we were well off compared to others. Devin had worked and saved since he was a child, sometimes working three jobs after he had dropped out of school. He had bought the house with his own and had money set aside. Though I had never had a job until my hostess job, I had received an inheritance from my late mother. I saved and invested it under Dad’s guidance and it flourished into a healthy fortune. Devin and I had joined our accounts so one could use the money in emergencies. It was all gone now. What we were looking at was the equivalent of 100 euros. 

Hot tears pricked my eyes as I realized all our money was gone. We were practically destitute now with a baby. Seeing me upset, Devin leaned over and hugged me. “It’ll be alright.”

But it wasn’t alright. I had always been financially stable all my life thanks to my father’s money. Seeing the lack of money frightened me and I felt all the more devastated by the loss all the more. Devin wouldn’t understand how alien not having money was for me, as he had come from a poor family.

Connor awakened, whimpering, pulling me from my fears. I swallowed hard and reined in my tears and breathed until my emotions were under controlled. “I’m okay, now.”

The Galra had been inspecting his claws during my emotional outburst and was ready to continue. “You do have means of employment. I see that Devin Walsh worked at the quarry and construction. Parts of the city will have to be rebuilt for Galra arrivals and it will offer paid work.”

“Alright, I’ll take the job,” Devin said. 

“You’ll be contacted with details later. We’re almost done; I need to collect DNA samples from each of you.” He picked up a hypo-gun with a thin, short nozzle on the end. “Who’s first?”

Devin went first and then me. He pressed the nozzle to our wrist and it emitted a quick hiss followed by a sharp sting. A small pink mark was left behind on our skin. Then the Galra motioned to Connor, “It’s next.”

“Him too?” I said surprised, reflexively holding Connor to my chest. He was mumbling, not quite deciding if he was hungry yet or not.

“It’ll be quick,” he said, though I wasn’t certain if he was trying to be reassuring or hurrying us along.

What choice did we have? I brought Connor closer and wince when the Galra lifted the tiny foot in the crook of one long finger and pressed the nozzle to his heel. Connor squawked at the soft hiss and hollered at the top of his lungs. A small pink mark was left behind, but the hypo-gun might as well have taken his whole foot with it from his reaction. I held him close, kissing his head, and giving him a jiggle, but he refused to be comforted.

The Galra’s ears slanted back, almost folding in irritation at the cries. “We’re finished. Rations are in the depot at the end of the hall.”

We left the office in hopes that a walk will calm Connor down, but that only gave him an audience to impressed. His howls echoed down the hall, drawing glances from people from within as we hurried down the hall.

Devin guffawed, “They’re probably thinking the Galra are eating babies in here.” 

“Don’t joke!” I hissed. I was still wounded from our losses. Was the house still in our name? Did we even have a name to put anything under? The car was probably still smoking on the side of the road south, but what about my college tuition? All the things I hadn’t thought of once during the invasion came crashing down and it was staggering. 

And it was about to get worse.

We waited in a long line to the depot. People who have taken the oath and saw the monumental blow to their finances were standing grim eyed. The mother with two small children swatted one of them for fidgeting and warned the other she would get the same if she didn’t stand still. A woman was silently weeping into her father’s shoulder who patted her hair with a gnarled hand. Perhaps there were others worse off than us. With all the money we had, and we had little over 100 euros left, there were those who had little and now had nothing at all. It was sobering realization and it pacified me until it was our turn.

A sentry hefted a large jug of water and a bag of food inside. A Galra clerk was ticking off items on a holo-screen, glanced at a Connor and ordered the sentry to set a tin of formula on the counter next to the bag. We were grateful to see more formula for our low reserves. 

“When will we get more?” Devin asked taking the tin and setting it the bag. 

“One of your weeks,” the Galra said offhandedly, ready to see to the next people in line.

We looked at the tin. It was small. Not even the size of the regular size ones. It wouldn’t last us three days.

“We need more formula,” Devin said. “Our son will go through this fast.”

“Then teach it to eat less,” the Galra said which an irritated flick of an ear. “Or can your mate not nurse it?”

It was a slap in the face. I had come to grips with not being able to feed our baby. The guilt over not supplementing his restricted diet had been wrenching. Fresh tears pricked my eyes, but I was thoughtful enough to lay a hand on Devin’s arm to keep him from doing something that’ll get him in trouble. 

“If you can’t give us more formula, may we buy it instead? We have eur - gac in our names.”

“Does this look like a store to you?” the clerk raised an eyebrow, becoming impatient with us. 

“Our baby is going to starve if we don’t get more formula,” Devin said. 

“And how is that my problem?”

A sentry was standing away from the wall, gun at the ready. I touched Devin’s arm to halt the outburst that would get him arrested. We walked away from the depot. The tension in his arm seemed to vibrate into mine and when we stopped he spun around towards the depot. For a terrifying moment, I believed he was going to charge it.

“Devin . . .” I whispered, frighten.

“I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise,” he said staring at the depot. Then he set the bag down on the floor and began rummaging through it. It contained several cans of food, powder food mixes, a first aid kit, a small sewing kit, and basic toiletries. Devin grabbed several cans and said, “I’m going to see if I can trade these for more formula. You go ahead outside and calm Connor down if you can.”

Connor who had been swinging between moments of outright crying to whining hadn’t decided whether to be upset over he stung heel or being hungry. It wouldn’t be long before he made up his mind and chose one. I touched Devin’s shoulder, “Don’t take long and please, don’t do anything to upset them. We’ll figure something out together.” 

The last thing I needed or wanted was for him to be arrested and taken away from us. I didn’t know how we would survive without him.

Perhaps if I had stayed with Devin, then our lives would have taken a different course. Devin would still be around, I would never have been taken from Earth, and Connor would have both of his parents. If only I had managed to find the way outside and hadn’t turned left at the end of the hall, I never would have met Takor. I would never have brought his poison into our lives.

I took the wrong turn. I was in a hurry to get Connor outside before his cries grew loud and angry. And I was upset over the money, the lack of formula, and my own failure to produce milk for my baby. And without any of the signs and changes in the courthouse didn’t help either. I was confused and disoriented and I walked straight into a Galra.

There was a startled oomph from him and large hands grasped my shoulders. I was so scared he was going to arrest, accuse me of assault, or just hurt me for running into him, I panicked. 

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to -” I stammered remembering the abuses we endured on the road and feared it would happen again.

The Galra didn’t wear the same metal armor as all the others we have seen before. His uniform was darker with slits across the breastplate and he wore no helmet. Mismatched eyes regarded me with a white left eye and an orange right eye. His nose was slightly crooked from a bad break long ago that had healed without being set properly. 

“It’s alright,” he said, holding onto my arm, but not to restrain me. “What’s your name?”

I swallowed, jostling Connor who refused to be ignored for long. He keened loudly, breaking off into a stubborn whimper. “Bridget.”

“Bridget,” he said slowly, “what’s wrong?”

My eyes were still been red from crying and I looked a state with my hair in tangled curls and my face lined with worry. I didn’t know what to say. The other Galra had been apathetic to our plight and maybe this one was being polite with feigning interest. “Nothing’s wrong . . .I’m okay.”

“I can help you if you let me.” His voice was accented and soothing. It wasn’t sharp with a bark of an order or rough with the threat of violence. It comforted me to hear a Galra speak so kindly. 

I lowered my guard and took a chance, “We need more baby formula for my son. They won’t give us enough to last until the next ration handouts.”

“I see. Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.” Then he left, walking down the hall in long strides. 

I didn’t dare move or disobey him. I still wasn’t certain I wasn’t in any trouble and knew the other shoe was about to drop too. I tried to comfort Connor, regretting that we didn’t have the foresight to grab a dodie or a bottle for him when the left. Then the Galra returned with two formula tins. Not the small ones, but the large ones. 

“Will this be enough?” He asked offering them.

Amazed, I took them, cradling them in my other arm as tenderly as I held Connor. “Yes! This is more than enough. Thank you so much!” 

“You’re very welcome,” he said smiling, showing a hint of sharp teeth. “If you need anything, come to me, my name is Takor.”

I was still overwhelmed by the good fortune that came out of nowhere after such a wretched morning. Fresh tears filled my eyes as I was overcome with relief that my baby won’t go hungry. 

“Bridget, do you need to sit down? I have a private office where we can talk . . .”

At that moment, Devin appeared at my side. His hand cupped my elbow and he glared at Takor. “Bridget, honey, I was looking for you.”

“Devin, I have more formula,” I turned to him, showing him our bounty. “Takor gave them to me.”

Devin never took his eyes off Takor, his hand tightening on my arm. “My wife and I thank you for your generosity. Our baby is hungry. May we take our leave to go home, sir?”

I didn’t understand Devin’s stiff politeness towards Takor, the first decent Galra we had come across. He stood with a straight back, almost standing between Takor and myself. Takor was eyeing Devin back, the friendliness bleeding away into a wooden expression. Something was being exchanged between them and I couldn’t read into what it was. 

Takor dipped his shoulders and drew a step back, “Don’t let me keep you. Goodbye, Bridget. I hope we see each other again soon.”

***

When we arrived home, I gave Connor a bottled and settled him down for a nap. Then I took a shower and went downstairs where Devin was sitting at the table with a pot of coffee. It was hard to believe that after so much had happened, it was still morning. I collected a mug from the cabinet and poured a cup for myself. I noticed Devin watching me with an anxious expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said lowering his eyes.

“Now I know something’s wrong,” I persisted. “You’ve been quiet all the way home.”

He looked at me for a long time. I could see the indecisiveness behind his eyes trying to choose what to say to me. Finally, he settled for, “I’m really tired. I woke up a few hours ago, but now I could lay down and sleep for a week.”

“I’ll be sleeping right beside you,” I replied taking a sip and grimacing at the bitterness. We had run out of cream and sugar weeks ago. “I’m so relieved we have enough formula to keep Connor fed for a while.”

Devin drained his cup and said nothing. He wanted to say something, I could feel it like a breeze on my skin. I waited with my hands curled around the mug, enjoying the warmth seeping into my palms. Finally, Devin said, “I don’t want to sound like a misogynistic husband, but I want you to stay indoors with Connor while I’m at work. Don’t go out for anything until I come back and whatever rations or shopping we need, I’ll get them on the way home. At least, for a little while, until things settle down.”

It irritated me to hear him say it, even though it made sense. I didn’t feel safe going out alone with Galra present and where would I go anyway? Eva was gone, my job was no more, and all the stores and places I liked to visit were closed down, that is if the buildings were still standing. And I had no way to go anywhere except by foot as our car was a burned out husk many miles away. 

I was, also, a little afraid by how gravely Devin was speaking. Like he was trying to warn me without actually voicing the warning itself. “Sure, Devin, I’ll stay inside with Connor. He’ll keep me busy throughout the day.”

“And don’t let anyone in, especially Galra.”

I raised an eyebrow and he flinched. “I’ll certainly not let any Galra into this house if I can help it. What are you so worried about? What’s wrong, really?”

Devin bought some time by refilling his mug and taking a long pull from it. Then he said, “I didn’t like how that Galra in the hall was speaking to you.”

I stared at him nonplussed. “You mean Takor?”

“Yeah, him,” Devin said tersely. “Especially him.”

“He gave us formula for Connor,” I said confused. “He didn’t act like an arse towards me at all.”

Devin’s eyes met mine. “Bridge, he didn’t give us the formula. He gave you the formula.”

I blinked several times until a gear finally turned in my head and I rolled my eyes. “Goodness, Devin, surely you don’t think he was trying to chat me up, do you?”

He took another quiet drink from his mug and said nothing, letting the silence speak for itself. I snorted, exasperated, “Don’t be jealous. He’s an alien invader and I’m your wife. You’re afraid you’ll come home to us snogging in the bedroom like some daytime tv soap?”

“I’m not jealous, Bridget,” he said forgoing his pet name for me. With eyes becoming as sharp as flint, he growled. “And I’m not worried about you being unfaithful. I’m afraid of what could have happened if I hadn’t shown up when I did. The thought of him luring you into some private office and hurting you and Connor terrifies the hell out of me.”

I sobered quickly, my mirth was forgotten in the heat of his gaze. I reached across the table and held his hand, “I think he actually wanted to be helpful. I don’t think he wanted to hurt me.”

“But he wanted something,” Devin persisted, squeezing my hand tightly. “Bridget, honey, promise me that you’ll stay away from Galra, especially that one. Just so I can rest easy.”

“Alright,” I promised.

I intended to keep that promise, I swear. I had no intention of seeking out Takor again nor any Galra for that matter, but the next time I ran into Takor wasn’t because of any doing of his. It was because of me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	5. Chapter 5

 

A week later, Devin received a phone call that told that he would start work in an hour. He was given an address where a truck was waiting to take him and others to the ruined sectors for clearing out and reconstruction. I was in a near panic, terrified that Devin was being led into some sick Galra trick and would never come back. He told me that if they wanted to kill him, then they wouldn’t need to come up with some story of employment to get him to go. They could just knock down the door. After reassuring me, or trying to, he changed into his work clothes from his old job and left. I watched him go from the window, holding Connor and assuring him Daddy would come home soon.

Daddy wouldn’t be back until 2:00 AM. I stayed up rocking Connor with my eye on the clock and half convinced that Devin was gone forever. And I was looking at a future of being a widowed mother raising her child alone during an alien occupation. I had fallen asleep in the armchair with Connor on my shoulder when the door opened. Devin came in covered in dirt and sweat, exhausted, starving, and with a day’s pay in his pocket.

Afterward, Devin would receive a call telling him when the trucks were leaving. Sometimes days would pass without a summons. When it did come, Devin had to stop what he was doing and go or miss out on pay. Knowing the ration handouts would come to an end, we saved our money. I tried to make the rations last as long as possible between the two of us.

We didn’t have to worry about formula anymore. With our ration allotments came two large tins of formula. I knew that Takor had a hand in it and I was glad for it as our baby could eat as much as he needed. If Devin had any reservations about the extra tins, he said nothing. I had the feeling that he wasn’t as appreciative as I was for the extra formula.

“The sooner we can wean Connor off it, the better,” was all he would say on the matter.

Gradually things returned to normalcy. Our neighbors began tending their yards and gardens. Schools reopened and children resumed their education. Now parents walked their children to and from school lest the Galra steal them away. Alien cars patrolled the streets after six o’clock curfew. Sometimes in the distance, we would hear a siren as they caught someone breaking curfew.

Dr. Carter reopened his clinic and Connor and I was among his first patients. He declared Connor a healthy baby boy and gave me a clean bill of health. I spoke with him about my milk drying up and he determined it may have been caused by stress.

“You’re a new mother during an alien invasion,” he said, holding Connor in his hands, making a face to entertain him. “It's not uncommon for first-time mothers to have problems producing milk. I wouldn’t worry about it. When you have your second child, you’ll produce plenty.”

Sunday Mass came back and Connor was baptized. That was the first and only time Devin ever went to church with me. He looked uncomfortable in his best clothes, preferring casual wear or work clothes. People exclaimed over Connor and he was passed around by eager arms ready to hold him. The women examined Devin critically, disturbed by his non-religious attitude. They did invite to come back, but he didn’t. He never did.

***

The night I saw Takor again was the night Connor became sick.

That evening, hours before curfew, Devin got the call to work. When the Galra hired Devin, he was given a pass that allowed him to travel to and from work during curfew hours. If a patrol car stops him on his way home, they scan his pass and see he was within his rights to be out during curfew. As long as he went straight to home or work. He wore the pass on a lanyard he hung by the door so he wouldn’t forget it.

I set a dinner plate for him in the fridge and gave Connor a bath and a bottle while rocking him to sleep. I took a shower, towel dried my hair, read my Bible and a novel I had been meaning to finish for a while. Television had been replaced with programs broadcast from their orbiting command ship. Most of it was propaganda about the Empire and repeating the rules about curfew. It was interesting for a while, but it became repetitive so we left the tv off for most of the time.

When I wasn’t busy with chores or Connor, I read to pass the time. I had a long reading list I had been neglecting due to school, work, and pregnancy. Now without work or school, I was able to finish one book after another after I put Connor down for the night. The books were nice companions for me while I waited up for Devin to return from work. Since the library wasn’t available anymore, I swapped books with our neighbors. I was a hundred pages into my book when I heard Connor crying.

When I picked him up, I was shocked by how hot his skin was. His face was red and his chest covered in pink splotches. I took his temperature and was alarmed when it read 102. I bathed him in cool water and checked his temperature again. It had lowered to 101.8 but was still too high for my liking. I walked with him, feeling his head and face, wondering if I should be giving him a bottle or not.

The clock read 9:20 when he stopped crying and became lethargic. His eyes were half closed and slowly blinked at me. I took his temperature again and wailed when I saw it had risen to 104.5. I gave him another bath, colder this time despite his weak keening. His temperature lowered slightly, but he was still wouldn’t move, almost limp in my arms like a doll.

Since the Galra came, I didn't believe any ambulances would be in operation. And the internet had been down since their arrival so I couldn’t look up Connor’s symptoms online. Devin wouldn’t be home for many hours so I alone with my terribly sick child. Dr. Carter only lived a few blocks away. Not far at all.

I pulled on a pair of dark gray Nikes, black track pants, and one of Devin’s black hoodies. It hung off my smaller frame, the hood almost covering my eyes. I had to keep pushing it up so I could see. There was enough room inside that I could wear the baby sling Eva gave me as a baby shower gift before she left Ireland. The sling was a strong velvet cloth that wrapped over my shoulder and across my back. I could carry Connor in the hammock like pocket laying across my stomach and chest. Once he was secured in the sling, I zipped the hoodie up, hiding him from view and keeping the chill away from him.

I left the lights on before I leaving through the backyard so anyone would believe I was still at home. I left our backyard by the glow of our backdoor lamp, trying to keep out of the light as much as possible. Hopefully, the neighbors wouldn’t see me and if they did, I could only pray they wouldn’t recognize me or turn me in. The hood kept my face hidden, so maybe they’ll believe me to be a prowler.

I went through three neighbors’ yards and onto the street, avoiding the one with the yapping dog. I looked down my shirt to check on Connor who had fallen asleep, lulled by the motion of my creeping over grass. I touched his head and cringed when I felt how warm it was. Was it because he was snugged so tight in the sling and the hoodie was trapping our body heat? Was I making the fever worse by bringing him outside?

I slipped behind a fence when lights from a Galra vehicle appeared from around a street corner. The corona of light filled my vision and I crouched low, behind old oil cans and waited for the siren. I watched the light slide along the street through the slits in the fence. It kept going and I didn’t feel any relief until it was out of sight.

I considered going back and weather out the fever with cold baths until the curfew ended. Then I thought of how long fevers at such high temperatures cause serious damage in infants. If Connor suffered for the rest of his life because of my cowardice I would never forgive myself and nor would Devin.

Now was a good time to cross the street just as the Galra had passed. They wouldn’t be able to loop around the block as fast as I could cross it. There were more fences I could move behind and if I was careful, I could get to Dr. Carter’s house. I could spend the night there and return home in the morning.

My shoes thudded uncomfortably loud as I trotted across the street. In my head, I could see flood lights flashing on me, blinding me and dozens of Galra appearing with raised guns. Some of them were even Goatee, Scar, and the young one from the road. Would they shoot us on sight or arrest us? What would they do to Connor if I was arrested? Return him to Devin or use him to hurt me, to punish me?

When Connor started crying, I yelped, believing he was being harmed by the Galra. No, he had just found the strength to give voice to his misery.

“Shhh, shhh, baby, shhh,” I soothed looking around to see if anyone heard him.

I unzipped the hoodie part way down to check on him. His eyes were closed and his mouth opened to draw that deep breath in for a loud screech. I pressed my hand over his mouth, but then withdrew it. What if I unintentional smothered him to death to stifle his cries? I didn’t have a chance to rethink it as Connor belted out a wail. It startled a neighborhood cat that leaped out of a rubbish bin. The bin fell over when the yowling cat sprang out of it.

A door light flashed on as someone hazard a peek out the front door. I dashed across the street before whoever it was could see me. Connor did not like being shaken and made it known with another high pitched yell. My shoes thudded on the asphalt, breath rattled in my chest, and my heart pounded so hard it could burst. It all came to a screeching halt, like a crash, when the light flashed across me. And like the frightened animal in the headlights, I froze.

When the siren flashed on, throwing a purple light into my eyes, I ran. Hugging Connor to my middle, I leaped up onto the curb and ran around a house. There was a hole in the fence, likely a space that children could use as a shortcut into friend’s yard. The top of my hood and hair caught on a nail on a loose board, snapping my head back. I wrench free tearing cloth and losing a few hairs too.

The Galra siren followed, speeding up along the street. It would round the block within seconds. With me being slowed by weaving around lawn ornaments, I almost tripped over a sprinkler. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up to me. Connor’s cries were loud enough to ring in my ears. I banged my hip on a rubbish bin and tipped it over. A window light came on and an obscure figure stood there watching. I skipped away, kicking through the garden. I broke through a gate that swung open so hard it banged against the fence.

I was on the street again, but the car was cutting the corner blinding me again with the headlights. In a mad panic, I took off, my legs pumping to the house across. I wasn’t so mad with fear that I would beat on the door, begging for entry. Instead, the garage door was opened. The interior light cast a glow over an old Chevrolet and a fishing boat covered in a tarp. I scooted sideways between the boat and car, careful not to bump Connor against the car door in my haste. I ducked behind the boat and clutched Connor to my chest.

Connor’s face was still red from fever. His skin was burning to the touch and he refused to be comforted. If only I had brought along a pacifier or a bottle. I held my fingers over his mouth, not daring to press them over his lips, but wishing I could just shut him up!

A long shadow spread reached across the pavement between the boat and car. I cringed into my tight corner. Excess tarp hung from the edge of the boat and I raised it and lowered it in front of me. I forced my breathing to slow and pressed my hand over Connor’s mouth, muffling his cries into desperate whimpers.

Heavy boots scuffed the pavement. A shadow covered the far wall where an old tool bench lay heavy with rusty tools and an ancient radio with thick knobs sat like a silent watcher. Someone had taken great pains to polish the metal surface and it reflected a moving figure. I didn’t dare move. A brush of cloth on the wall, my shoes shuffling on the dry pavement, or even the tarp crinkling could draw attention.

Sitting still allowed my body to feel the aches from my quick run. My legs were stiff, my chest couldn’t get enough air in it, and sweat was cold on my skin. Connor tittered beneath my hand, his smalls hands opening and closing like small frighten birds.

_This is how it ends? They take me away and I never see Devin again? My baby gets sick and dies because I couldn’t walk three blocks at night without being seen? Am I that much of a failure as a mother?_

The figure’s shadow was growing larger on the far wall like an approaching monster. It shouldn’t see us as long as whoever it was didn’t walk out from between the boat and car and turn around. Maybe we were so well hidden behind the tarp we wouldn’t be seen, but Connor needed to be quiet.

The footsteps continued. I held my breath. Connor wouldn’t stay quiet; whimpering and grunting. The light disappeared and the tarp was pulled up in a swoosh of plastic.

Takor looked down at us. His mismatched eyes widening in surprise. “Bridget . . .?”

I stared at him, too shocked for words. His eyes lowered from mine to Connor then back to mine. Then he raised a single finger to his lips and dropped the tarp and left. I heard his footsteps echoing through the garage and disappear.

“What’s in there?” Another Galra asked.

Takor answered, “A dying animal. Tell the owner - no, I’ll tell the owner he needs to put it out of its misery. Wait in the car.”

I stayed hidden until I heard the Galra squad car leaving, then I almost cried with relief.

***

Dr. Carter’s wife was aghast to see me so long after curfew. She hastened me inside, glancing up and down the street before shutting the door. “Are you trying to get yourself arrested!?”

When I told her why I had come, she told me to go into the kitchen and start a cool bath while she roused her husband. Dr. Carter came in wearing a housecoat, toting his medical bag with him, and his usually comb hair was in disarray. He inspected Connor and asked me a myriad of questions. How long had he been sick? When did I notice he was sick? How long has he been crying? Has he thrown up? Refused a bottle?

I answered each one as quickly as they were asked and I tried not to hover as he checked over Connor who keened in misery. Dr. Carter told his wife to fetch medicine from the cabinet and drip several drops into Connor’s mouth. Then told his wife to give him a cool bath before taking me into the living room and pouring me a glass of claret.

“He’ll be fine,” Dr. Carter told me handing me the glass and even holding my hand steady so I wouldn’t spill it. “It’s an ear infection.”

“But the fever . . .” I started.

“Is his body fighting the infection. I gave him some medicine for the pain and fever. We’ll see if it clears up on its own in a few days and if it doesn’t I’ll prescribe him antibiotics.”

“So he’s going to be alright?”

“Yes, it’s a very common ailment in infants,” he said jovially, irritating me all the more.

I felt chagrin by his tone of voice as if I should have known better than to panic. Then I became angry. I held my tongue from years of respecting my elders drilled into me by my father and teachers. They kindly loaned us a guest room to spend the night. I turned in early in the with Connor who was slept peacefully as his fever broke.

In the morning, I declined breakfast to return home as soon as possible. I feared how Devin would react if he should return home to find it empty. The streets seemed more open and friendlier in the light of day. The early risers were beginning their morning routine. Joggers were doing their rounds. Gardeners were inspecting their flowerbeds, and children were playing. One would think there was no Galra occupation.

Devin still wasn’t back by the time we arrived home. I was both relieved and frustrated as I was glad I didn’t return to find him worrying about us, but I missed him greatly. I wanted to fall into his arms and tell him of what happened last night. I laid Connor down in his bassinet and made coffee. I intended to put my feet up for a while before starting my daily chores, but then the phone rang.

I stared at it as if had suddenly jumped up and started dancing. The phone had only rung before to summon Devin to work, but he wasn’t here! And it had never rung while he was away. I swallowed, not brave enough to answer it, yet didn’t dare to. I slowly picked it up as if it were dangerous. It made a hollow click as it left the cradle. In the journey it made to my ear, all sorts of thoughts blared through my head. They were telling me there had been an accident and Devin was hurt. Or worse, Takor had turned me in and I was to report to the courthouse for punishment. They were coming to get me so I might as well pack a bag as I wasn’t coming home for a long time.

I was already wondering if the neighbors would watch Connor until Devin came home. With dread in my heart, I whispered, “Hello?”

“Bridget?” It was Takor.

I swallowed, again, but it was like downing dry marbles. It was hard to do and it hurt. “Yes?”

“Don’t be scared. You’re not in trouble. I just want to talk.”

A measure of relief seeped into my heart, but I remained standing with a straight back. “O-Okay . . .”

“Why were you out last night after curfew?”

I told him about Connor being sicked and how I was trying to get him to the doctor. Takor listened until I stopped talking. He was quiet for a moment before saying, “Bridget, the next time you have an emergency like this after curfew call me.”

I blinked. “Alright . . .?”

“I’m loading my personal number to your phone so the next time you need help after curfew, call me, and don’t go out at night.”

There was a slight catch in my throat. If it had been his partner who searched the garage instead . . . my mouth went dry at the thought. “I understand. I’ll call.”

There was a long silence from the other end. I began to wonder if he hung up until he spoke again. “Is your baby alright?’

“Yes, it was only an earache,” I said almost sullenly, still raw from being chastised by the Carters.

“It must have scared you to see him so sick.”

“Yes, he wouldn’t stop crying and he was so hot.” Finding a sympathetic ear relieved the tension in my shoulders I hadn’t noticed. I recalled how I had bathed Connor to lower his fever and what led me to take the chance to get him help. Then I told him how I felt when the Carters told me it was just an ear ache and then had the gall to scold me for overreacting.

When I glanced at the clock, I was taken back that I was on the phone with him for nearly half an hour. Speaking to him had been so soothing, I had forgotten what he was. Connor was grunting from the next room in the beginning stages of demanding a bottle. “I have to go. Connor needs me.”

“May I call you again?”

I didn’t know what to say. My silence filled the long moments between us as I mind spiral to think of something to say. My lips parted several times to say it would be alright to call, if only because I still afraid to tell him no. He could still turn me in after all.

“I’m sorry, I made you uncomfortable. Forget I said anything. Goodbye.”

The phone went silent and I lowered it into its cradle and went to Connor.

Devin came home several hours later dirty, tired, and starving. He had enough energy to eat the bacon and eggs I prepared for him, shower, and collapsed in bed. He seemed so exhausted I didn’t tell him about last night until he woke up that afternoon.

He listened with a cup of coffee steaming in hand, wearing nothing save for his plaid pajama bottoms. His hair was still damp from the shower and his skin smelled of soap and water. The lower part of his face was covered in grizzle from not shaving for the last two days. I told him about Connor becoming sick and went white when I got to the part about breaking curfew.

“Are you out of your bloody mind!?”

His sharp words startled and shamed me, then it was my turn to be angry, “What was I supposed to do!? If it wasn’t for the Galra, I would have taken him to a hospital or called for help. I had no way of calling you!”

“It was an earache! My siblings had ear aches all the time and Ma never took them to the doctor.”

I slammed the dish I had been washing into the sink so hard it broke in half. “Forgive me for being scared out of my wits! Forgive me for doing everything I could to help our child! Forgive me for being alone, by myself without you there to guide me on being a parent!”

Devin smacked the mug on the table so hard, black coffee splashed out over his fingers, scalding them. He wiped them on the pajamas, his eye flashing, “Do you want to trade places!? I’ll stay home and you can get on the bus and dig through dirt and rock for all hours with no break save for taking a piss! All while those purple fucks watching with guns!”

“Maybe I should!” I challenged. “Then I’ll know Connor is in such good hands! Better hands than mine!” My voice broke and the tears flowed freely. I turned back to the sink and picked up the pieces of the smashed dish. It had broken in half leaving behind tiny white chips laying on the bottom of the sink.

Devin came up behind me, touching my arm and I drew back, “Don’t! Leave me alone.”

“Bridge, please,” he said in that soft voice that always reassured me, but I didn’t want to be comforted right now.

“Leave me alone!” I pushed away from him and went upstairs.

I spent the next hour crying, feeling sorry for myself, and then praying to God to ease my anger and fears. Connor began crying in the nursery. Before I could leave the room, I heard Devin go to him, speaking softly, calling him his Little Man. A spiteful part of myself was tempted to go in there and take over from Devin, but a more peaceful part told me to stay away. I was still too angry to act like a good Christian or a good wife.

I made a choice in that bedroom. I opted not to tell Devin about Takor helping me nor about him calling me shortly after. I wanted to make peace with Devin and his knowing about the one Galra he disliked aiding me would it make it worse. The Christian part of me didn't want to hide it from my husband, but I just wanted to make things right with Devin.

With my decision made and feeling ready to make up, I went to the nursery where Devin was rocking Connor. He was still shirtless and muscular arms seemed to swallow the baby in them. Connor was looking over his shoulder, holding his head up, peering at the room behind his father. Devin patted his rump and hummed a tune, likely one of his favorites from the radio.

He stopped humming when I came in. “Feeling better?”

“A bit,” I admitted. “How is he?”

“Curious. He keeps climbing up me to look at the room,” Devin turned Connor around to see me. He stared wide eye for a moment before bursting into a gleeful squeal. He gave me a smile that shattered any bitterness I had left.

I gathered him into my arms, kissing his face, and giving him my finger to hold. “You’re all bright eyed and bushy tail after our adventure last night,” I sang to him in a high voice.

Devin and I made amends. He apologized for being angry and I apologized for being so sensitive. We hugged and kissed each other and I gave him some good news. I had spoken to Dr. Carter earlier that morning and after a quick exam, he declared I was fit for intimacy again.

Devin’s brows rosed. “No wonder you want to make up.”

Later that night, for the first time in months, we had sex. After such a long absence, we got to know each other again. I had lost weight from stress and rationing our meals and he had gained muscle from long hours of hard labor. I missed him like this. Open, warm, and intensity rippled between us. We lay together in a tangle of sheets and limbs, both sated and happy. Both of us content to lay like that forever, that is, until Connor woke up for a nappy change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace.


	6. Chapter 6

The next time I encountered Takor was the day it rained so much our roof leak.

Our days fell into a routine. A phone call would tell Devin what time work began and he would be gone within the hour. I would take care of Connor, keep the house clean, and make sure a dinner plate was ready for Devin when he came home. Once he was gone for almost 18 hours and as I begin fearing the worst he came home covered in soot and with red eyes. 

They had been clearing out government facilities for Galra use. One building had been scorched and they had the task of clearing out the rubble. And to remove the bodies. 

“I don’t know if they were workers or people trying to hide,” Devin said in a raspy voice over a glass of ice water. He came down from washing his face and hands in the sink which left dark smears on the towel. “I couldn’t tell whether they were man or woman. They were all black and charred with all their clothes burned off. We found them in a storage closet, they may have thought it would keep them safe. It didn’t.” I sat with him at the table listening and letting him unburden himself with my hand on his. I wished he could find work closer to home with regular hours and he wouldn’t see such things. 

Before the invasion, I regarded the phone as a normal household item. Now I was filled with dread whenever the damn thing rang. Not for summoning Devin away from me, but for fear it would be Takor calling. Each time it rang and Devin picked it up, I expected him to give me a wide-eyed look. Then he would hold the phone out to me with a suspicious, It’s for you.

With our marriage still young, we hadn’t had any serious rows other than small disagreements. Finding out about Takor would bring about a huge fight I dearly wished to avoid. At night, when a groundcar patrolled the neighborhood, I wondered if was Takor out there. As the weeks went by, that frightening night faded into a bad memory. My fear of Takor revealing my secret was pushed to the back of my mind as new concerns took its place.

They stopped handing out rations once the stores reopened. Devin’s long hours of labor paid off with the small nest egg of gac funds we had saved. For the first time since the invasion we could eat heartily and I celebrated by cooking a large dinner for us. Our good mood was short lived as that next day we received an announcement. We were to start paying our monthly dues to the Empire. 

We were able to pay off our first payment with enough to get us by if we were careful with our funds. Despite our frugality, we needed another source of income to make ends meet. If stores were reopening, then jobs would available.

When I brought it up, Devin was at first against it. “I want you to stay home where I know you’ll be safe.”

“We won’t have a home if we can’t afford the taxes,” I replied.

Connor added his comment to the conversation by chirruping from the floor. I had finished changing him and was giving some tummy time. A stuffed rabbit was tucked in the crook of one arm while he sucked on his fingers. He had grown quite responsive in the last few weeks. His eyes beaming when he saw us and little hands grasping our fingers so tight. 

I tickled his belly while Devin continued his argument from the stove. “Who would watch Connor?”

“Mary down the street turned her home into a daycare,” I replied.

People were going back to work, but they had children who were too young for school. It provided a business opportunity for Mary Allen. She had a backyard with a swing set and sandbox where her children had played before they grew up. 

“And that’s another bill we’ll have to pay,” he groused. He was grilling hot dogs on the stove. They rolled over the divots like logs on rapids as he pushed them to and fro with the spatula. Then Devin brighten as a thought occurred to him, “Why don’t you ask her if she needs an extra pair of hands? You could take Connor with you.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, love, but Mary’s daughters came down from Ennis once they lifted the travel ban. They have everything covered, but they promise to give me if they need help.” 

Devin went back to poking the hot dogs. “Why not put that teacher’s education you got to good use then?”

“Can we afford to wait that long?” I asked. “I would love to teach, but we have no idea how long before the Galra allow schools to reopen. They might bring teaching droids or robots to handle classes or their own teachers.” Then I had the image of a Galra in a skirt and a white blouse with ear bobs tapping a ruler in one large hand. The image both sent a chill down my spine and almost made me crack a mirthful smile.

Devin said nothing as he scooted the dogs off the stove and onto a plate which he brought to the table. I turned Connor onto his front to give him some tummy time and joined Devin at the table. 

“I need to be out there beating the streets before all the decent jobs are taken,” I said, not willing to let the topic drop.

Again, Devin said nothing. He tucked a hotdog into a bun and slathered it in ketchup and mustard. We had no other toppings such as onions or relish so he began eating slowly. He wasn’t ignoring me, he was deep in thought and weighing everything I said. 

“I don’t want you around Galra,” he stated, “and I want you close to home in case something happens with Connor.”

“That’s my plan,” I assured him and kissed on the cheek.

***

Yet, finding work was harder than I anticipated. Before I married Devin, I had never worked a day in my life. It was Eva who got me the job at the restaurant. 

I was so naive back then and finding work had become much harder during the occupation. People could no longer afford to be as open and lenient as they were before. They now had to look after themselves and their own to survive. A woman coming into their place of business with a baby asking if they had any openings was not a welcomed sight. They were quite polite and full of kind smiles and compliments for my beautiful baby. They said, ‘We’ll let you know’, ‘Sorry, nothing for right now’, or ‘Try down the street’.

What would have helped my chances is if I had left Connor with Mary’s daycare. I wanted to save our money as much as possible until I found work. Ironically, it may have kept me from getting it. As soon as they saw my son, they mentally shook their heads and knew I couldn’t be relied upon. I may leave early to tend my sick child or bring him to work with me. 

Three days, I walked the pavement with Connor in a pram. I think he enjoyed it more than I did with new sounds and sights to explore with his developing senses. He had dangling toys to play with and I kept several bottles in a pack behind the pram. A nappy bag bounced against my hip as I walked the street from building to building. 

As I promised Devin, I tried to stay away from Galra. Once, I came around the corner as a duo of soldiers were coming up it. I froze, afraid that wheeling around too fast would sling Connor against the side of the pram. My sudden flight might make me seem suspicious. The Galra had arrested several people for ‘suspected treacherous actions’. 

Last week, the Galra arrested a group of teenage boys for vandalizing one of their groundcars. They had spray painted several rude phrases on the car. The mildest among them was ‘Zarkon can get bent!’ and the Galra were not pleased. The last I heard of it the boys’ parents were trying to appeal to the protectorate chief, but it was falling on deaf ears. Anyone arrested was never heard from again.

Connor started whimpering, disturbed by my sudden stop. It gave me a reason to stop and fret over Connor. I spoke to him in a high sing-song voice to hide the fear creeping up my throat. I patted his legs and body to both comfort him and hide my shaking hands. Instead of Connor, I kept seeing the barrel of a gun glaring down at me like an eclipse. 

The Galra passed us and I didn’t stop fussing over Connor until they had turned the corner.

“Cute kit,” came a deep comment. 

Kit? Like before, on the road, I wondered if he meant to say, kid. Or was it the accent bringing out the ‘t’ sound out of the ‘d’?

Once Connor was settled, I went into the store and knew right away that I would not find work here. They all looked at me as if I carried the plague. My near contact with the Galra had socially infected me. No women came to coo over Connor nor did any man glance in my direction. People maintained their distance and watched me until I left. 

On the fourth day, I was ready to give up and hope Mary needed help sometime in the future. I went to the market with Connor and shop for what we needed as frugal as possible. 

I was in the store when a storm blew in. I grimaced when I heard the thunder, knowing it would be a long walk back home in foul weather. I could close the pram cover and keep Connor from getting wet, but I had no rain jacket or umbrella. I considered buying one in the store but decided against it as we already had umbrellas at home. We no longer had the money to spend on convenience. 

The overcast sky made the world dim like a room with the window drapes closed and the lights off. Before stepping outside, I made sure the pram's hood would cover Connor. I could have stayed in the store until the rain stop, but Devin was at work. I still had that worry I would receive the phone call every wife dreads. I wanted to get home as soon as possible in case that phone rang.

The rain punished me by pelting my face and hands. I gasped as cold water seeped into my blouse, making the cloth cling to my skin. I managed to get to the end of the block before I turned back. There was no way I could get us home without getting drench. I would have to wait in the store until the storm passed. 

I didn’t see the Galra groundcar pulling up to the curb through the curtain of rain until it pulled up next to me. My heart leaped to my throat. The purple siren wasn’t on, but that did little to ease the terror crawling through my stomach. The window scrolled down and Takor was sitting at the wheel, “Need a ride?”

I blinked, completely taken aback. I had almost forgotten about Takor as had pushed him to the back of my mind. To see him here was like seeing a figment of my imagination coming to life. I forced myself to answer, “We’re fine . . .”

“You’re soaked. I can take you wherever you need to go.”

A voice in my head screamed for me to run away with Connor. To have the pram rattling before me and my pounding feet splashing through puddles along the way. And then a more rational part of me warned that he could still arrest me for breaking curfew that night. Before I could decide what I should do, he was already getting out of the car to help me inside.

I couldn’t refuse him and he didn’t give me a chance to do so. He took the grocery bag from me and told me I could load the pram into the backseat. The backseat chillingly had a mesh-like bars separating the back from the front, like a police car. The inside was warm and comfortable with large seats. My feet dangled above the floorboard, something I hadn’t experienced in a car since childhood. I swaddled Connor in a blanket before laying him on my shoulder where he burbled comfortably. 

I rubbed his back to encourage him to sleep to keep my fear in check. My heart raced and my wet blouse made me cold despite the warmth inside the car. Takor got into the driver’s side and closed the door, shutting us in together. Everything about him was so big. His hands were wide, long arms, and broad shoulders which was exacerbated by his alienness. The purple fur, the animal-like ears, and pupiless eyes all screamed wrong, not human to me. I swallowed, feeling suffocated and hemmed in. It was too late for regrets as the car pulled away from the curb and coasted down the street. Rain sprayed the windshield. The water rolled back, blown back by some sort of technology at the bottom of the window. 

“Are you cold?” Takor asked, his voice was deep lilt in question.

I swallowed, “I’m fine.” I looked ahead and saw we were coming to a turn up ahead. “You’ll turn left here.”

“I know. You live on Bakers St,” he replied.

He knew where I lived? It made sense. He patrolled our neighborhood so he would know who lived where. Yet, it was still unnerving (and ominous) that he did know. 

He drove in silence and it was hard for me not to stare at him. As much as the Galra scared me, it was hard not want to stare at them. They were so tall with purple skin and fur. I’ve seen them move with a smooth long limb gait, almost unnatural, like watching claymation in motion. With a quick glance, I noticed he was watching me with a small tilt of his head. I looked away, afraid he would think me rude, but then I realized that perhaps humans were just as strange for Galra. We were smaller than them and naked with no fur or no teeth or claws.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Takor said. 

“I’m not,” I lied in reflex. 

I was terrified that this was some ploy to trick me into his car so he could arrest me without fuss. Instead of taking me home, he was really taking me wherever they arrested people. Morbid thoughts crept through my head. Would they have someone take Connor home? Would they allow Devin to return home early in light of his wife’s arrest? I began to wonder how Devin and Connor would do without me? Devin could pay for Connor to go to daycare while he was at work, but at all hours? And who would take care of him when he came home tired and hungry? 

“How long have you been married?” 

The question took me by such surprise I jumped, disturbing Connor. I rubbed his back to soothe him and thought the question over. It wasn’t what I was expecting from an alien. It was such a normal casual question that you would expect from someone giving you a lift. 

I had to take a moment to think as the weeks as seemed to blend together. “Almost two years.” Then as an afterthought, I asked, “Are you married?”

“For nearly ten years,” he said.

I studied him for a moment. He didn’t seem that older than myself, but then again who was I to judge Galra ages? He could be a youngling for all I knew. Yet, I didn’t get an older man vibe from him. Like I would from some of our neighbors or other members of the church and he seemed too mature to be young. For some reason, I was relieved to hear he was married. 

Following the train of questions, I asked, “Do you have children?”

“No, there hasn’t been time for kits,” he replied, a rueful smile touching his lips. 

Yet, again there was that word. Kit or kid? Curiosity made me daring enough to clarify. “Did you mean kids?”

It took him a moment to realize what I was talking about. “We call our children kits. Sometimes cubs depending on where you’re from.”

That finally cleared up that confusion and speaking with him had put me more at ease and I became braver. “Why didn’t you arrest me that night?”

Again, he was thoughtful for a moment before answering, “The curfew was put in place to protect your people from insurrection. I knew if you were a traitor or a rebel, you wouldn’t have brought your baby along.”

I unconsciously patted Connor’s back, certain if it had been anyone other than Takor who found me in that garage, I wouldn’t be here with him now. “Thank you.”

“Do you still have my number logged in your comms?”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Call me if you need any help.”

I thought about my luckless job hunt. “We’re fine.”

The car was warmer now and almost cozy. I was relaxing, enjoying the ride and the feel of Connor in my arms. I put my thumb into his hand and loved the slight pressure when he grasped it. 

“If you’re not busy being a wife and mother,” Takor said slowly, “Would you be interested in a job?”

I turned my head to him, surprised, “What kind of job?”

'Most of your government facilities kept paper copies of records. We learned how to speak your language, but reading it is a different animal altogether,” he explained. “We’re hiring humans to sort through the material. It pays well and you can start tomorrow if you like.”

It would be working for Galra and Devin had forbidden me from being near them. A sarcastic voice in my head said, and yet here you are getting a lift one from. An unbidden question left my lips, “How much does it pay?”

“50 gac an hour.”

I sucked in air through my nose, stunned. It was more money than what Devin brought in a night after his long hours of labor. We could afford daycare, plenty of food, and enough money to cover next month’s taxes. “Where?”

“In the courthouse. Hours are from 8:00 to 3:00. I can have a car . . .”

“No, I can get there on foot,” I said quickly before realizing what I was saying. 

“Great, I’ll be sure to put your name down tonight,” he seemed delighted. 

I blinked, amazed and frightened by what had just happened. I was too afraid to back out and we sorely needed the money. The rain was slacking by the time just before we arrived at the edge of the neighborhood. I didn’t want the neighbors to see me getting out of a Galra groundcar and as if sensing this, he pulled over. The rain was only a drizzle by then. It misted on Connor’s brow and cheeks making him start in surprise. He started complaining until I put him in the shelter of the pram. I shouldered the grocery bag and took a guilty glance around. There was no one around as people were at work or more concern about their own struggles. Yet, I could imagine people telling tales about seeing Bridget Walsh dropped off by a Galra groundcar. I had no wish to be in the center of a neighborhood scandal as Eva did with her atheist tryst in Liverpool.

Despite my haste in returning home, I couldn’t be rude. “Thank you for hiring me. We need the money.”

He smiled warmly, “Anything I can do to help you, Bridget, I will.”

I should have taken it as a warning, but at that moment, I had come to like him. Finally meeting what I perceived as a kind Galra made me feel safer. If there was one good Galra, then there could be more that didn’t want to see us suffer.

Devin still wasn’t home and I checked our messages which were none. My relief was short lived as I would have to explain that I now have a job working for Galra which he had forbidden. I discovered a growing puddle on the kitchen floor and much to my dismay, above it, was a stain on the ceiling. We had trouble with the roof before and Devin had spent a hot afternoon repairing it. Hopefully, we still have the extra shingles and tools still in the garage. There was nothing I could do about it now. so I took an old bowl and set it beneath the leak and took Connor upstairs for a nappy change. 

The better part of me said I should turn down the job and stay home tomorrow. the more pragmatic part pointed out we may not have a home much longer if I didn’t it. I came up with all sorts of arguments to stake my claim on my new job. As time passed my arguments grew weak in my mind and I began having second thoughts. For the first time, I began dreading Devin’s return home. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the familiar sound of the door slamming closed in the middle of the night. 

I came downstairs in my wrapper and house socks. The worry kept me from sleeping though I had changed into a nightgown to get some sleep. My eyes were heavy for want of rest, perhaps giving me the appearance of someone who had just awaken. He was already at the fridge getting the plate of supper while the coffee maker bubbled. 

“Hello,” he said in a tired voice. “How’s Connor?”

“He’s fine,” I replied going to the cabinet to fetch two mugs.

Devin eyed the bowl on the floor and looked up at the roof. “Shite. It’s leaking again.”

I nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry about it until tomorrow. Just eat and get some rest.” It was hard to see his shoulders lower as a new burden had been added there. The smell of coffee reinvigorated me, giving me the ounce of courage I needed to approach the subject. I wanted to give him a bit of good news. “I got a job.”

The relief in his eyes warmed my heart. “You did! That’s great! Doing what?”

The coffee was ready and I filled the two mugs, my hand gripped the handle hard. “It’s sorting out old government paperwork. The ones they hadn’t scanned into computers before the invasion.”

Devin considered this as he unwrapped the plate and stuck it in the microwave. “The Galra are allowing us to keep that information?”

“Well, the Galra are just wanting the information sorted out.”

He didn’t say anything. The microwave chimed and he took out the steaming plate and sat down with it. He stared at his plate for a moment before rising to fetch a fork from the utensil drawer. I watched him move between the drawer and table waiting for him to say something, but he didn’t. He did not have the strength to look angry, just tired and regretful. 

Once he sat down with the plate, he said evenly, “I don’t want you working near Galra.”

“Devin, I tried to find work elsewhere, but no one would take me on,” I explained quickly. “And it pays good money! 50 gac an hour! We could afford daycare for Connor, not have to worry about food so much, and afford the taxes.”

Devin shook his head, “I said I didn’t want you around Galra.” His voice grew harder, louder, just an octave below shouting. 

I pressed on, “I wouldn’t be working with Galra. There’ll be other humans and I’ll be working with them.”

“Yes, but working for Galra!” Devin pushed his plate away, clearly losing his appetite. “You have no idea what those bastards are like! I saw one nearly take a kid’s head off for taking a smoke break without permission.”

“Well, I don’t smoke so I don’t need to worry about that,” I said hotly. 

“I can’t go to work worrying about you . . .” 

“Fine, then you can stay home with the baby and I’ll support us.”’

“Goddammit, Bridget!” Devin’s face was turning scarlet. 

A sudden outrage overtook me and I slammed my hands on the table. The plate rattled and the coffee sloshed over the mugs. “Don’t you dare swear and use the Lord’s name in vain at me, Devin Walsh. You can go right out that door and not come back if you are so content to let us lose the house because you can’t handle your wife working around aliens to keep the roof over our heads.”

His throat bobbed and his eyes widen and wild like a frightened animal, I drew back bracing for the blow-up. My father had blown up before; bellowing like a wounded bull at me for the rare instances of insubordination during my adolescent years. A roll of the eyes, rude sarcasm, or outright defiance was enough to set my father off and followed by punishment of being grounded or depending on the infraction, the belt. I didn’t expect Devin to hurt me, but being shouted at would reduce me to tears. 

Devin drew deep breaths through his nose and closed his eyes tight. His face faded from scarlet red to a sick pale color. When he spoke, it was restrained, hoarse, “I’m not my father. I’m not going to shout at my wife in the middle of the night. Go to bed, Bridget. I’m going to eat, take a shower, and sleep downstairs. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

I didn’t want to leave it like this. I wanted to apologize for shouting at him. I wanted to resolve things between us, to make him understand why I had to take this job, that I was doing it for us. Growing up with my father taught me when to let things lie for a while before picking it up again. Devin was tired and hungry right now, not in the best mood for any further discourse. 

I went to bed, said my prayers, read my assigned verse for Bible class, and tried to sleep. It hurt sleeping without Devin. I wanted to feel the heat of his body near, to have him within reach. I wanted him to understand how afraid I am. Taking a job, having a part in keeping our home, would give me a sense of control I had lost during the invasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, I woke to the sound of hammering from the ceiling. It frightened me, making me believe Galra were beating down the door until I remembered the leak. Devin must have risen early to repair the roof and to avoid me. 

I began the morning by checking on Connor who was burbling in his crib, entertained by the mobile. I changed his nappy and gave him his morning feeding. I cooked breakfast and ate my share and put Devin’s in the fridge. The hammering above continued for intervals as he replaced shingles. I pack a baby bag for Connor in case Devin needed to take him to Mary’s. It didn’t seem likely that Devin would need to take Connor to Mary’s, but preparing a bag bought my time before our talk.

After collecting everything for the baby bag, I change clothes. I opted for slacks and a comfortable blouse. I teased my hair back into a loose tail and applied light makeup, going with a more natural look. I checked Connor’s nappy and made sure he would be alright for a few minutes. Then I went outside after Devin, dreading it, but it was necessary.

He was still on the roof hammering away diligently and didn’t stop until I shouted his name several times. “Yeah?”

“I’m about to leave. Will you come inside with Connor?”

Though he was far up, I can feel the piercing gaze he was giving me. “Are you still going to the courthouse?”

I nodded, “Yes. We need the money.”

Devin gathered his tools and climbed down the ladder. Without looking at me he headed for the front door. His disregard hurt me more than if he had insulted me to my face. I called after him, “Is that it? You’re don’t have anything else to say?”

Devin paused at the door, but still wouldn’t look at me. “I already told you how I felt about you working for Galra and you’re still going to do it?”

I swallowed, “We need the money.”

“Then we don’t have anything else to say.” He went inside and let the door slam shut.

***

I forced myself not to cry. I didn’t wish to let Devin force that emotion in me. Nor was it because I didn’t want to go to my first day of work with red eyes. I was afraid if I would be so emotional I wouldn’t be alert. As I came closer to the courthouse, second thoughts sprang to mind. What if Devin was right and working for Galra was dangerous? I would be around them and they could hurt me or arrest me for any small or perceived infraction. 

“She could show more respect . . .” 

The words struck like a snake from a bush. Unwanted, unbidden, and devastating. What the hell was I thinking? I could be walking into something very dangerous. There may not be a job for me at all, but a pack of Galra waiting to hurt me. 

I stopped and contemplated going back and forgetting the whole thing. What kept me from heading home right away was the thought of giving into Devin’s paranoia. I imagined him being smug over being right (despite that he had never once done so before). The more practical side of me reminded me that Takor made the job offer. He could have had me arrested that night but didn’t. He could have carted me off to somewhere isolated instead of taking me home but didn’t. And he was the one that helped me that first day with the formula for Connor, for which gained him nothing. He wouldn’t lie to lure me into danger when he already had plenty of chances to do so.

I kept going, shelving my fears for now. The courthouse seemed empty with the vacant parking lot. Very few cars were on the road these days. The building seemed almost abandoned without women and men in suits coming and going. There was a sweet scent on the air as if someone had cleaned the floors. I hadn’t been here since the day we took the oath to the Empire where we had been afraid and uncertain of the future. 

I stood in the lobby not knowing where to go and too afraid to ask one of the Galra for direction. Just as I was getting anxious, Takor appeared from around a corner. Again, I was taken aback how tall Galra were compared to humans. He topped at least 7 feet and he strolled with that casual stalking grace associated with cats on the prowl. Seeing him gave me a sense of comfort, he was becoming familiar to me and a seed of trust was growing between us. All my doubts and second thoughts of taking this job melted away and I smiled at him as he drew close. 

He returned my smile with a grin that showed white teeth that seemed more at home in a predator’s mouth. “I’m glad you made it. I’ll show you where the others are.” 

A heavy, long finger hand, laid across my shoulders and guided me along with him towards the archives. In my naivety and ignorance of Galra culture, I assumed he was being friendly and reassuring. What I didn’t know was he was both showing me off and declaring his claim over me. A subtle message to the other Galra that I was off limits.

There were four other people in the archives. Alan Borman was a portly man with thick glasses. He better prescription as he kept squinting through them. He had worked as manager of the archives since before the invasion and the Galra allowed him to resume his old job. 

Clark Marstron, a Londoner reporter with pretty blonde hair and a nice smile. He had come to Ireland to write a story about the invasion and found himself trapped in the country without a job. He managed to find room and board with a charitable old widow and wanted to make his way. One day, he told us, they’ll lift the travel ban between countries and I’ll need money to get home.

Aileen Shay, a mousy older woman working to support her sick husband and their three children. She was small, barely over five feet tall. She wore long cardigans with spectacles perched near the tip of her nose. She twitched papers about with blue-veined hands and thin lips were usually in tight lines. She reminded me of a school librarian that liked the books more than she did the students. 

Then there was Beverly Sherman, an American with blonde hair coiled back into a french braid. She was the best dress of the four of them. Her clothes looked brand new with fashionable jeans and a white blouse. She was even wearing makeup with eyeliner that made her blue eyes stand out and lips so red they were crimson. 

Beverly was the first to greet me. “Oh my God! You have the most gorgeous hair! Does it grow naturally like that?”

I wasn’t certain if she meant the color or the curls so I answered, “It grows like this. I don’t do anything special to it.”

The others maintain their distance. Alan and Aileen giving me critical glances and Clark gave me a charming smile. 

The first day of work was pretty straightforward. Basically, Alan was in charge with Aileen as his right-hand woman. Clark was pretty good at deciphering illegible handwriting and had a stack of papers to sort. Beverly and I were given the simple, but time-consuming jobs to complete. Since we were women of the same age, the others lump together as partners. It gave us plenty of time to chat and get to know each other.

Beverly had been going on a world tour when the invasion happened. One of her stops had been Ireland and she took shelter in a bunker with many other frightened families. Like Clark, she was far from home, penniless, with no way to return to her homeland.

“I’m worried about my husband,” Beverly told me as we sorted through legal documents. “He must be worried sick. You’re so lucky your guy is close by.”

Hearing her story made me realize that I was very fortunate. I had Devin throughout the terrifying ordeal of fleeing the Galra. He was there when gave birth to Connor and through the weeks of uncertainty and fear. I couldn’t imagine going through that on my own and I felt pity for Beverly being so far from her husband. At least before I got to know her better.

I talked about myself, about my husband, and my baby. Beverly beamed at me. “You should bring Connor to come to see us!”

I maintain my smile knowing full well that I would only bring Connor here unless it was over Devin’s dead body. Perhaps he would find some comfort in knowing that after Takor left me in the archives I only saw the humans. The Galra pretty much kept to themselves and let us get on with our job without supervision. At least, that’s what I thought. Clark pointed out the cameras casually planted in the corners of the ceiling. 

“They trust us enough to be alone, but not without being watched,” he said jovially sending a salute to the camera.

While Clark and Beverly seemed eager to socialize with me, Alan and Aileen maintained a professional distance. Aileen stiffly went over the process with me with the air of a teacher who had become quite tired of her job. Alan had said very little to me throughout that first day. 

The day slipped by quicker with the companionship of Beverly. We left together chatting about Ireland and New York. It had been so long since I had such a refresh conversation with another. It felt like old times without all the worry and fear. I said, “Do you think your home is okay after the invasion?”

She almost stumbled as she drew up short and looked around with large eyes. She was as shocked as if I had said a vulgarity. “Bridget, you can’t say that anymore.”

I stopped, confused. “What?”

“Invasion,” Beverly said so softly she was almost mouthing it. “They don’t like it when you call their arrival an invasion.”

I blinked. “But isn’t that what they did? They invaded. They shot people and blew up cars and houses.” My mind flashed back to the family who stole the cabin from us, the Galra on the road and being chased by the ship. 

“There was a little ruckus when they got here, but things are better now. All the wars have stopped, people are a lot nicer to each other, and the Galra are going to bring new technology we can use!”

I bit back my retort of I wouldn’t call what they did as a little ruckus. I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with a new co-worker. Though, I did start to see Beverly in a different light. Maybe she was an optimist who wanted to see the good side of things. 

As if sensing my dubiety, she said, “It’s not like they are herding us off into gas chambers and death camps, you know.”

“Yeah . . .”

***

When I returned home, Devin was on the floor playing with Connor. He was on his back and held Connor up with both hands and made airplane sounds as he waved him through the air. Connor squealed with a string of drool hanging ominously above Devin’s face. 

I was afraid he would ignore me again, but he sat up thumping Connor on against his stomach. “Hi, hon, welcome back.”

His demeanor was so different from this morning I was taken aback. “Hi, how’s Connor?”

“As chipper as ever,” he said getting to his feet. “I got dinner ready if you’re hungry.”

Sandwiches had been provided for lunch by Aileen. They were pretty simple cheese and tomato sandwiches with warm tea to drink. It was a meager meal so I very hungry by the time I got home. I thank Devin and went to the fridge wondering if I should start telling him about my day. I was afraid it be like I was rubbing his face in it if I did. I was in a landmine field of not wanting to fight with him and making amends all the while being stalwart to my new job. 

While I was getting water to drink, he was the one that broke the ice. “How was your day?”

Relieved, I said, “It was good. I’m not around Galra at all. I’m working with other humans in the archives and they’re all nice.”

He nodded while I told him about Beverly and Clark. He looked interested when I explained what I had done for work. The more I spoke, the more relieved and happier I felt, hopeful that Devin had finally come around. 

When I finished my recap of my day, I timidly asked, “Are you still angry with me?”

By this time, Devin had settled Connor into his baby rocker and was giving him a finger to squeeze. “I’m livid.” 

I stopped with my fork poised above my plate, dreading the row we were about to have. Devin held up his other hand to halt me from speaking. “I’m still furious, but I love you and I understand why you took the job and you’re right, we need the money, badly.” He drew his finger from Connor’s grasp and entertained him by spinning one of the hanging toys from the top of the rocker. “With that said, I’m going to tell you that more harm than good is going to come out of you working around Galra. I don’t need to remind you what happened to us during the invasion.”

I shook my head, remembering everything of those first few days. “I’ll be careful, Devin, I promise. And if I can find another job elsewhere, then I’ll quit.”

His face was still grim and his voice was heavy with worry. “I want you to swear to me that you’ll stay with your friends, Beverly and Clark. Don’t go anywhere alone, not even to the loo, and never be in a room alone with a Galra.”

I nodded, “I promise, Devin. I’ll stick close to Beverly and Clark.”

He was quiet for a moment and then he said, “Did you see Takor there?”

My throat tightened and my heart skipped a beat. “Takor?”

“The Galra who gave you the formula. Was he still there?”

The word, the truth, rose to my lips but died there. “I saw him around a few times.” 

“Stay away from him. He took too much of an interest in you that day and I don’t want him getting ideas.” 

If Devin knew that it was Takor who offered me the job . . . it didn’t bear imagining. The honorable and Christian part of me told me that I shouldn’t be lying to my husband. That I should tell him the truth about the night I broke curfew and it was Takor who offered me the job. But the words wouldn’t come. I was just too happy to have Devin finally come around about the job. I was looking forward to sleeping next to him in bed tonight. Telling him the truth would ruin this peace between us and could very well damage our marriage. So I stayed silent, repentant, and knowing I would have to go to confession on Sunday. 

Devin’s fears of more harm than good occurring from my job became so true they were prophetic. If I had been honest with him about Takor, then perhaps he could have convinced me to quit my job and cut off all ties. Then what happened later would never have happened at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	8. Chapter 8

A few weeks later, the Galra informed our priest, Father Brian, he could no longer hold Sunday services.  Any gatherings not been sanctioned by the Empire were banned. Despite our church’s elders' best efforts, their pleas fell on deaf ears.  The church’s doors were permanently closed after that following Sunday. Churches weren’t the only places of worship being shut down. Jewish temples and Mosques were also being forced to close their doors.

It’s to keep us from plotting against them,” Devin said when I told him the devastating news.

“But we’re only worshipping God!” I cried, wringing my hands and imagining how my father would take such news. 

“They’ll want to put a stop to any religious services on the chance that the Father starts preaching the Galra have been sent from Hell and fighting them is God’s command,” Devin explained as he touched my shoulder soothingly. “They don’t want a holy war on their hands as I suspect they are experiencing in some parts of the world.”

We were allowed one more service under Galra eyes.  It was only long enough for Father Brian to share the news of no more services and to lead us in a final prayer. Takor was there, standing in the corner, next to the altar. I wasn’t the only one to take noticed as many people shot him ugly looks as the priest broke the sad news. His eyes met mine across the congregation, but I couldn’t read the emotion there. I wondered if he agreed with closing the church and would he condone small services being held in people’s homes as was planned by some members of the church. They couldn’t outlaw prayer in the privacy in one’s home. Could they?

Devin continued working to clear rubble.  We’ve noticed that he had been getting more and more calls to work. Sometimes he was gone for as long as six hours while other times he wouldn’t come back until the next day. My fear of his never coming back had diminished, I still wanted him to find work in town and be closer to home.   No one could pay the wages he received from the Galra and he was determined that we would keep our home.

With my wages added to his, we were able to pay off our taxes that month and have plenty to eat.  And I was able to afford luxury items such as top brand body wash and scented laundry detergent. It amazed me that something as simple as moisturizer would be such a treat.  I bathed in honey and almond scented soap the morning I made love to Devin the first time in months.

I had risen early that morning and showered. I came out in a cotton bathrobe toweling my hair dry when I took a moment to stare at Devin.  He was still asleep from long hours of work. He was on his back, an arm curled above his head and a hand on his chest. Hours of hard labor had given his muscles definition over the months.  His shoulders were broad and the thin sheet outlined the rises of his washboard abs.

My throat tightened as the desire rose in me like a tide. My body had recovered from the trauma of giving birth, but we never had time for each other. I worked each day and he would be gone for so long and when we were together, there was Connor to look after. Time would be short, but I would make it count.

I left the bathrobe on the floor and crawl across the bed onto Devin. My hands trailing over him, caressing him through the sheet. Pressing my mouth to his chest, I woke him with gentle tugs of my lips and teeth. He was already aroused when he placed his hands on my shoulders, drawing me against him. He still smelled of the men’s soap, a sweet musky scent, that pricked my nose.

His need matched my own when he took my mouth with his. Within minutes, I mounted him and we were joined together for many blissful minutes.  He pulled away from me at the last second before he climaxed. We panted, holding onto each other as I stretched out beside him, laying an arm over his waist.

 

At my curious look, he said, “As much as I would love to have more children with you, we should wait  until Connor after starts school.”

I was alarmed by our near miss from having an additional burden. I love Connor and I wanted more children, but the time wasn’t right for it. Not as long as the future was so uncertain with the Galra. I had never considered birth control until now. Before I married Devin, I had been a virgin.  Not long after our wedding night, I became pregnant. It wasn’t until now that I wished we had a more reliable form of birth control instead of coitus interruptus.

I went to work fretting over it. The only doctor still seeing patients in our area was Dr. Carter, a family doctor.  I doubted he could provide birth control. As far as I knew there were no OBGYN doctors around, at least none that were treating patients. I shared my concern with Beverly in the privacy of going through parking ticket dockets.

She gave me a reassuring smile, “I have some patches you can use.”

“Patches?”

“Yeah, you wear one for a week and then switch it out for another. They work great!”

“I appreciate the offer, but what if you need them later?”

“I don’t need them,” Beverly assured me as she went to get her purse.

I had assumed she was willing to give them to me because she wasn’t having sex anymore. It was the wrong assumption.

As she passed them to me, she said, “You should ask Takor to get you more later.”

I blinked, taken aback. “He can get more patches for me?”

“Oh yeah! They can get us anything we need or want. You just have to ask.”

I didn’t want to ask him. Not because asking for birth control from an alien would be embarrassing.  Because I didn’t want to put myself in his debt any more than I was already was.

“Could . . .you ask for me? It’ll make me . . .uncomfortable to ask.”

“Of course, I can, Bridget.”

True to her word, a week later, she came to me in the privacy of the women’s loo with several boxes of patches and a wink. I slid the boxes into my purse not knowing whether she had asked Takor himself or another Galra. Nor did I consider for one second about why they would grant such favors.

I had no idea that Beverly was sleeping with a Galra lover until later on the following month when she began to show.

***

The patches definitely improved our love life. We were too afraid of the patch not working right away so we waited a week.  That night, we kept Connor up by playing with him. I gave him a warm bath with lavender scented soap and a good feeding. We put him to bed ensured he would stay asleep for many hours.   Then we threw ourselves at each other in a desperate passion to make up for lost time. Sex with Devin was a near-forgotten pleasure that came back to me in the wonderful bliss in his arms.

Being raised by a strict Catholic father and authoritarian private school nuns, I had been innocent of sex. It had been drummed into me since I began developing breasts that sex before marriage was an evil thing to do. Exposing myself to pornographic imagery would taint me in the eyes of God and that touching myself was just as evil. Being in an all girls school kept us safe from the desires of the flesh so accustomed in public schools. We had attended conjoined dance a private school for boys. These were so heavily supervised with sharp eye chaperons, I didn’t dare do anything more than a simple waltz with a boy I knew to be religious and nice.

Devin respected my wish to remain celibate during our courtship though it was hard for him and for me too.  The days leading up to our marriage, I was full of anxiety about the wedding night. I knew the mechanics of sex, but I had no many questions about it and was too embarrassed to ask anyone about them. So I made the mistake of going to the internet for answers.

I was horrified.  I was so sure I would be a terrible lover that I had a mind to call off the wedding or any romance at that. I confided in Eva who laughed mercilessly when she learned what I had seen.

“Seriously? You’ve never watched a porno before!?”

“Don’t laugh!” My face was as red as my hair. I looked around the coffee shop for fear someone would hear her. “You have no idea how afraid I am by this.”

Eva stifled a giggle and took a sip of her coffee, which she spiked with a small flask she carried in her purse. Taking a deep breath and calming down, she said, “Bridget, people in pornos are putting on a show. You won’t be doing it that way with Devin. Those people are bending their bodies at odd angles for the cameras to view penetrations. It’s not romantic at all.  You got all these camera people watching and the director is telling you what to do the whole time.”

“How do you know?” I asked sullenly. Though I was relieved by Eva’s words, I was still chagrin by her finding my fears silly.

“I was in a couple of pornos in France.”

I stared at her for a long time. She drank her coffee and didn’t meet my eyes. I tried to fit her in with what I saw in the video and the images made my face turn pink. “I . . .I had no idea.”

“It was a fuck you to Mum and my step-fuck,” Eva said, crossing her long legs and tapping her lacquer nails on the table. Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine, disappearing behind her cup as she drank coffee. For once, she didn’t seem happy to share the shocking news with me.  Before she would take such joy in my reaction to her acts of open rebellion against her parents.

Eva didn’t seem to want to speak more about it and nor did I ask for more details. I could hear my father demanding I get away from her because good girls don’t hang around women like her.  I chose to ignore it. I love Eva dearly and because she was so ‘experienced’ that I was able to come to her with my fears. Instead of turning away from her, I embraced her and thank her for reassuring me.

She gave me one piece of good advice about consummating my impending nuptials. “Don’t worry. Your body will know what to do when the time comes. Devin will take it slow and,” she said this part firmly meeting my eyes, “not rush you into doing something you’re not ready for or want.”

Eva had been the sister I never had. And when she showed up at our door, I shrieked in delight and flung myself at her. Being taller than me, she held me off the ground in a tight embrace and kissed my cheek.  “Oh, Bridget, god, I was so fucking scared of what I would find here. Jesus, you look great! Where’s Devin? What about the baby?”

I held onto her as if she would float away like a daydream. “Devin’s at work and he’s fine! The baby’s asleep right now, but I may have woke him just now. Come and see him!”

Connor was still tucked in his downstairs bassinet in a deep sleep. Eva bent over him and stared in amazement, “Bridget, he’s beautiful. He looks like Devin. Did you have him in the hospital or here?”

I shook my head, “In the backseat of our car.”

“Shite, during the invasion?”

I nodded, “The first night.”

She demanded I tell her all about it.  I told her the story as I made tea. It started from when Devin woke me that night of the invasion and ended with us returning home.  Eva stared at me in awe making me uncomfortable as it was usually I who stared at her with such wonder.

“Jesus, Bridget, you could put that in a book and sell it.”

“Tell me about you. What happened in Italy?”

“Nothing near as exciting as your ordeals,” she said inclining her head. “I stayed in my cabin for most it.  I listened to the radio until it went dead and they lived down there for nearly two weeks. Then I went to the nearest village and got registered as a citizen of the Empire.”

“But how did you get here? I thought they had travel bans between countries.”

Eva gave me a glittering smile. “Bridget, dear, one thing I learned about Galra is that they have needs like any man. They are willing to repay favors with favors.”

It was how she said favors that clued me into the true meaning of that word. My jaw dropped in horror and fascination, but a lean towards horror. “Eva, no, you didn’t . . .with . . .with a Galra?”

Eva smirked as she loved watching my reaction whenever she shared shocking news such as the day when she announced she was dating an atheist, or when she purchased condoms and that time when she had keyed up her step-father’s new car.  “Compared to Galra, men are bland. They pretty much got the same thing under the hood, but with Galra there’s always a surprise waiting for you under the sheets.”

I put my hands over my ears, choosing not to understand what she was saying. My face was flushed pink and I shook my head, “Please, I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Alright, I won’t say anymore,” Eva said devilishly. “Tell me about things here. It seems pretty quiet.”

“It has been,” I lowered my hands and told her about Devin’s job and mine. I told her about the curfew rules and laws for this area.

She nodded slowly as I spoke, listening carefully. “So there’s been no acts of open rebellion?”

“Other than some dumb prats who spray painted a Galra vehicle, no.”

Eva glanced towards the window and then the door, and looked back at me. Her eyes lost their mirth.  She leveled her gaze at me and spoke in a low voice, “Rebel cells have been springing up in France, Russia, China, Korea, Brazil, and the States. The rebel cell in France has been especially giving them hell the last few weeks. They've been blowing up convoys, sabotaging their networks, and they even managed to sneak into a barracks and slit the throats of sleeping soldiers.”

I stared, not in horror, but in total amazement. “H-how do you know all of this? We haven’t received any news of what’s been happening off the island since they took over.”

Eva was quiet for a long moment. Her lips tighten in a thin line as if she was moistening them. “Bridget, don’t talk about what I said to anyone. Not even Devin, alright? Talking about rebels or about anything happening off the island will get you arrested and questioned.”

I held my cup with both hands, taking small comfort from the warmth through the porcelain.  A cold chill crawled down my spine. What had Eva been up to in Italy? How did she know so much of what’s been happening in the world?

“Eva, have . . .have you been to Liverpool?” I bit my lower lips, a fist closed around my heart.

“As far as I know, Liverpool is still standing. They came out better than London or Berlin for that matter. But I haven’t heard any word from your father, I’m sorry, Bridget.”

I closed my eyes, taking some comfort in the news Liverpool was still there. “As soon as they open communications for us, I’ll try to call him.”

Before she left, Eva kissed my cheek and held me close. She told me she would be living in an apartment downtown and that she would come to visit me later that week. Her parting words were, “Be careful, Bridget. Always, always, be careful. A Galra may act laid back and friendly when it suits them, but they can turn meaner than a pisser quick.”

***

I only worried about my father for another week after Eva’s visit. Takor was waiting for me inside the courthouse lobby and called me when I came through the doors. He asked me to come with him and my heart leaped into my throat. Eva’s warning and Devin’s decree against being alone with a Galra spun around in my head like a wobbling top. Another fear sprang that I was being dismissed. Then all the hairs on my body raise.  What if knew Eva and I had spoken about rebels and I was being arrested for.

The hall echoed with the sound of his boots and my shoes on the linoleum floor.  The air was colder inside than it was outside. I wondered if the Galra preferred the cold or their fur kept them warm so they had no need for heating. My hair was slightly damp from the light rain which surprised me on the way.  I had pulled my jacket up higher on my shoulders to guard against the freezing wind. It was dotted with rain marks and felt heavy on me.

Takor led me to a side office down the hall from several rooms being used. I stopped shaking from the cold and also from some fear.  He paused at the door noticing I wasn’t following him. “I’m not going to hurt you, Bridget, you can trust me.”

Isn’t that what the snake, Kaa, said to the boy, Mowgli, in the Jungle Book, just before he tried to eat him? I wondered as I walked inside, feeling as if the walls were coming in around me. The office was still neat and tidy as if its previous occupant had just left it for the day. The only thing out of place was the Galra computer on the desk.

Takor closed the door and I listened for the click of a lock, but it didn’t come.  I relaxed a bit when since he wasn’t locking me in here with him. He strolled past me to the terminal and typed some keys. “I can’t bring up video, but the audio should be clear.”

I stayed quiet, still not knowing what was going on. He tapped a final key and stepped aside, watching me with apprehension I didn’t understand. The terminal clicked and then beeped a series of notes. Was he about to play Galra music for me? Then I recognized the beeps as numbers being dialed on a telephone which was followed by a dull ringtone.

I was standing, still nonplussed, until a rich, rugged, Irish accented voice crackled.

“Aye, who is this?”

“Daddy!?” The words left my lips like a hare springing from a trap.

There was a silent moment in which my heart throbbed. Then the voice cried, “Bridget? My God, daughter, is that you?”

My vision blurred from tears pouring down my face. I drew close to the desk, wringing my hands that began to shake and I dropped my purse on the way. The cold was forgotten under the heat of love and longing between us. “Daddy! I’m here! I’m in Limerick! Where are you?”

“Liverpool. In me own house, daughter, like I said. No Galra is going to take me out of it if he doesn’t want to be taken into the ring with me. How are you? What of the baby? And that bloke you married?”

“They’re fine! Connor is wonderful. He’s healthy, a big eater, and he’s growing every day! He looks just like Devin with dark hair and blue eyes that I hope will stay blue.”

“Are you alright? You weren’t hurt during the war?”

“No, we’re okay. We went home once the war was over and it was still there waiting for us.” I saw no need to tell him everything that had happened during the invasion.

I wiped tears from my eyes and picked up my purse to seek a handkerchief to blow my nose. My hands were still shaking from the overwhelming emotion.  There was so much to say and we only had so little time. Takor pointed at the clock and mimed that we had three more minutes.

“Dad, tell me you’re alright. Are you eating well?”

“Of course, I’m eating well! I’m a restaurant chain owner. I had all the food brought to my house before the purple kat bastards came down from their oversize tin boats.”

If Takor was offended by my father’s choice of words, he didn’t show it. In fact, he looked a bit amused by my father’s choice of words. He leaned against the edge of the desk, silent, letting me speak freely with my father. It was more rekindling than when we first resume speaking after a year of not speaking with each other. That had been over a deep disagreement of my marrying Devin when this time we feared that the other was dead or hurt.

My father’s condition had been on my mind for the many weeks since I last spoke to him.  He was a tough old cuss as some family friends have described him. My father grew up in the poorer part of Dublin among gang-infested neighborhoods.  He had managed to graduate school and go into business for himself with a side hobby of boxing. It was during a boxing tour that he met my mother and married her and raised me alone after she died.  When I was a girl, he hung up his prizefighting gloves and took to managing his own restaurant. He used the money earned from fighting to open his own chain.

“My boss let us take what was left over from the restaurant before he closed it down. I think we still have some of it,” I mused.  My fingers flex with the strongest desire to reach through the distance between us and touch him. I wanted to feel his gnarled hands.  Still scarred from when he punched through solid ice to save me from an ice lake’s penetrating depths.

Takor made a gentle motion towards the clock and I knew our time was almost up. “Dad, I’m sorry, but I have to let you go.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” His voice was anxious and ominous at the same time. Though he was willing to take a belt to me for misbehavior, he would be damned if another soul should lay a finger on me.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said quickly to allay his fears and suspicions. “I just don’t have any more time. The connection is about to drop. I’ll try to talk to you again later, I promise. I love you.”

Takor reached over and tapped a key with a claw tip that disconnected the call. I was still overwhelmed by emotion that I didn’t speak. I sank down into a chair and let my legs fold slack beneath me. I grasped my hands together still feeling the slight quiver there.

“I wish I could give you more time to speak with him, but I only have a small window that low-grade communications can go unnoticed.”

I swallowed, afraid for him. “You won’t get in trouble?”

“No, but if I’m found out, the worst I can expect is a stern warning or a privilege revoked. Are you alright?”

“I just need a moment. I’ve been so worried about him.” A part of me has been preparing myself for the news of his passing.  but to finally know that had not come to pass was liberating made me feel slightly at a loss.

Then something else welled up inside me. Gratitude and indebtedness for Takor. He didn’t have to do this for me and I had no idea of how he could have known about my father. I should have wondered.

I couldn’t touch my father’s hands, but I could touch his. His hand curled around my much like Dad’s when I was a small girl. Before then, I had veered away from Galra, too afraid to be close to them, even Takor. I did not, nor would, touch them willingly. They were too otherworldly and dangerous for me to want to touch. Now I was marveling at the texture of fur covered hands.  The palms were wide and long claw-tipped fingers grazed the back of my hand.

“Thank you,” was all I could say, though he deserved so much more than that.

“I told you, Bridget, I will help you any way I can.”

And I believed him.  I no longer considered him a somewhat harmless Galra I should remain wary of, but an actual friend. That was when I opened myself up to him, let him in even more. In my gratitude, I became blind and mute and deaf. I didn’t ask the questions I should have nor see what I should have realized. And I certainly didn’t heed the warnings I was given.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr either my muse RP blog: rebelcourtesan  
> Or on my writing blog: gapspace


	9. Takor

 

He received a third offer today and deleted it without opening the message. He knew the amount would be higher than the last offer with a hint of a threat of what could happen if he should refuse it. They would do nothing, of course. He was at the outer edges of the Empire and his in-laws were all the way back on the Hirax colony. He very much doubted they would go as far as to hire an assassin (much less had the funds to do so).

Earth. That was what the natives of this mudball had called it. The invasion forces had since left to move onto other campaigns and expanding the Empire. The Peace Keeping army landed on the planet to complete the annexation. Their job was to establishing Imperial rule and harvest. It was almost too polluted due to overpopulation, but it had valuable resources to offer.

The natives were small and plain looking at first glance. They were several heads shorter than the average Galra and hairless save for scant body hair and the tresses on their heads. With no claws and blunt teeth, they were near harmless, save for their ferocity for violence. They had fought like demons during the war, holding back Galra forces for nearly a week on all fronts. But the might of the Empire overcame them. Now it was chaotic with remaining military cells leading resistances.

He was assigned to an island country of Ireland in district 38, or Limerick, as the natives called it. The climate leaned toward the cool side with lots of precipitation, rain most of all. He wrinkled his nose, disliking wet weather and continued reading the report. Crews have collected food and medicine to be distributed to natives who become citizens. Afterward, they would be policed for the foreseeable future. During the war, Ireland had joined with the rest of the UK and caused extensive damage to Galra forces. They would pay the price for their refusal to submit.

They utilized a central government building to round up the natives and turn them into legal citizens of the Empire. A large van had been parked in the back, out of sight for those who refused. There was always those who sought fruitless resistance in the face of the Empire’s might.

This wasn’t Takor’s first roundup by any means of the imagination. This would be his third time subjugating a planet after the initial invasion. The planets before had been smaller, the races more primitive. One of them had yet to discover bronze or metal for that matter. They were easily subdued, almost wiped out. Their planet of plentiful untapped resources was drained. However, this planet was different, more advanced in the early years of spaceflight. They were still considered primitive against the supremacy of the Galra.

The humans were herded into the main hall group by group. Takor allowed his men to work without his oversight as they had been well trained and knew how to do their work. The halls reek of fear and silent rage hummed on the air. Human eyes cast frighten looks while others were brimming with black hate. There will most surely be those who would spit upon the generous grace of the Emperor.

He was in the hall when he heard the baby crying. There was always a wailing kit or cub with a mother who couldn’t keep her whelp quiet at these things. The squalling was grating on his nerves, sending sharp needles through his ears. A splitting headache he attained from his in-laws’ message was getting worse. And the wailing was getting closer and closer.

Some daft woman was carrying her crying child through the halls instead of taking it outside. He left the office, not wishing to be near it. Turning a corner, a flash of color was hurrying from the other side and walked right into him with a soft grunt. The sudden jolt sparks a flash of anger and then he looked into the face of life itself.

A white face framed by a halo of vibrant flame peered at him through bright jade eyes. It took him several seconds to fathom what he was seeing. A human with long red hair clutched the wailing kit to her chest. She was stuttering an apology stood with her body was bowed protectively around the kit as if bracing for a blow. He stopped her with soft words and touched her arm. The skin was smooth as silk and fragile. He could feel the tender bones beneath the flesh and a stirring visceral heat rose from the center of his belly. The instant arousal surprised him again, and he was chagrin to be taken so by a non-Galra. He had been with aliens before, but never had he been so inflamed.

Her name was Bridget. An odd, but simple name. He didn’t understand his need to help her, to take away the terror in her eyes. So he fetched the native’s infant formula for her like some servant. A voice in the back of his mind was incensed that he should do such a thing. The growing heat quietens it like a churlish child. When he handed over the two tins, instant gratitude banished the fear from those jade green orbs. They were being linked together in a way he couldn’t fathom, but he wanted to explore it with her.

Then her husband arrived and whisked her away. The granite in the man’s eyes told him that he had seen the attraction Takor carried for his mate. And he would not stand by for it. Of course, Takor should have known a female that attractive would not be single. He watched them go, tantalized by the way her vibrant hair sway on her shoulders. Like the swing of a mesmerizing medallion and then she was gone and he went back to work.

***

Three nights later, he finally read the fourth message from his in-laws. The offered had gone up to 35,000 gac, plus the house and property (a gift from her parents) if he agreed to a divorce. It was a steep price to pay for a divorce. However, the price would be well with it as their daughter can marry higher ranked official. It would not only cover their losses but raise their status within the Hierarchy.

He met his wife Lina at a matchmaking meeting and he had liked her at the initial meeting. She was pretty with bold eyes and a congenial personality. Their first month of marriage had been good, but then he was called to duty. Within the last ten years, they had managed to be together for the combined amount of one year. It was no surprise that she sought another husband closer to home (and higher rank). A lieutenant posted to their colony star system was a much better candidate than a Peace Keeping captain whose duty took him to the outer edges of the Empire for months, if not for years at a time.

The first offer to settle for a divorce had been generous, but a part of him, a stubborn little git part, refused to settle. How dare she make such a decision without notifying him! Did her family put her up to it? Or was it her own idea? Was it possible the man she wanted to marry was an old friend who managed to climb the ranks to become worthy of her?

_Was he no longer worthy?_

The third week on Earth, he woke up and found himself needful. His sheath was swollen, his member edging its way out. Usually, thoughts of his wife got him through times like this, but she had become a sour figure since the request for a divorce. He turned to other sources: such female soldiers who caught his eye or alien women who met the standard of Galra beauty. Now he had the human sexuality that could rival the Lapan race’s sex drive.

The human culture seemed to surround itself with sex. Advertisements had attractive women showing off products, scantily clad girls draped over vehicles, a woman bobbing her head in a show of performing fellatio while eating noodles, and a couple making out while heating up food in an oven. Takor landed on Earth prepared to find humans involved in a mass orgy, but only found them afraid and angry.

A white face surrounded by a halo of brilliant red hair appeared in his mind’s eye. The heat that had stayed with him since he saw her began to pulse in his stomach. His erection slides almost eagerly into his hand. It didn’t take long before he was basking in the warm afterglow of an orgasm. He slipped back into sleep, his vision swirling from a red glow.

He woke up with the desire to find her. It was a simple enough to access his terminal and pull up a list of natives in the local registry. It took several tries. Bridget was a common name in Limerick as was red hair. He considered for a moment, then tried Bridget and Devin which pulled up one result. He read the address and found it was listed as one of the patrolling areas.

He didn’t usually go on patrol when the lower rank can handle it alone. That night, he told the soldier that he wanted to get to know the area and road along. He counted the blocks and the houses until he found it. It was a small, quaint native home. There was a light on the second floor and he wondered if she was in that room.

He went on other patrols to other areas, but he went policing that particular area more than once. Sometimes the light was off, other times it was on. It was a fancy, an attraction that would easily die when he found himself another female Galra.

Then came that night he saw her again. When he entered the garage to hunt for their miscreant, he stumbled upon her hiding with her baby. For several seconds they stared at each other. Her eyes were huge with terror and his wide with bewilderment.

A part of him that had served the Empire for most of his life demanded he arrests her on the spot. Another part, a warmer newer side of himself kept its silence. He warded his temporary partner away and continued a fruitless search elsewhere. Leading it further away from her.

That should have been the end of it. He should have forgotten it. If it was discovered that he allowed a criminal to escape, the best he could hope for was a demotion. And that would give his in-laws a reason to force a divorce. Worst, he could be arrested for treason himself. Yet, hours later, he was in his room, using back channels in comms to call her.

She answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

Warmth cascaded through his chest and stomach at her voice. Everything was pushed back and it was only him and her. She told him that her baby had been sick and that was why she dared to break the curfew. A likely excuse, he supposed, and what did it matter to him anyway?

It was as if a someone else had jumped into his fur and was taking over his actions. He gave her his commlink number and asked her to call him if she ever needed anything. He knew she never would, wouldn’t dare to, but it made him feel good to know she had it.

It wasn’t until he picked her up in the rain when he realized why he had done those things. It was on a curious whim that he pulled over and offered her a ride. Before she could have a chance to refused, he loaded her things into the groundcar and ushered her inside.

Her scent filled the small space of the groundcar. It filled his nose, went down his throat, and into the center of his stomach. Waves of instant arousal coursed through him. Having her so close and the isolation of the interior of the groundcar was so intimate. The last time he had been so close to a female was the Galra soldier with whom he had a short tryst before a raid on an insurgents hideout. That had been the last hurrah before plunging into death. He had made it out with minor injuries, but she had to be taken away by a medical transport. He never heard from her since. What he was feeling now was different, peaceful and safe, as if they were the only two alive on the planet.

She was only a touch away, but she was pressed against the door. As if she was preparing to leap from the moving vehicle if she should see the slightest sign his intent was less than amicable. She seemed to relax when he told he was married as if finding that commonality made him less threatening. He was almost embarrassed with himself to find such pleasure in being around her. Even though she was a primitive alien. Well, perhaps, not that primitive. There were races that haven't developed basic comforts such as indoor plumbing or still practiced pagan rituals due to superstition and myths. The humans had only begun to turn that corner.

He offered her the job, out of a desperate need to ensure they would have more moments such as this. She was very attentive as he told her about it. He became so eager that he nearly overstepped himself by offering to arrange transportation, but she declined. Though he was chagrined by his mistake, he didn’t allow it to show in his voice. He dropped her off outside of their neighborhood, determine not to make the same mistake again. The Empire had the right to claim any planet not strong enough to defeat itself, but Takor understood they were the invading race. Bridget did not want to be seen alone with him, much less getting out of his car and he took no offense from it.

He watched her leave until she turned a corner and then pulled away from the curb and returned to the barracks. The following day, he feared that she wouldn’t come. Her husband, the one with the fierce, penetrating eyes, may have talked her out of it.

When she finally arrived, looking more bright and lively. Her hair was held back in a mass of red curls. Green eyes flicked nervously around the lobby at the other Galra like prey scenting predators in the wind. Seeing her, he was certain of one thing: he wanted her. Wanted her like a man stranded on the burning sands of the desert wants water. Needed her like a man trapped underwater needed air.

He walked her to the archives, making certain all the others would know to leave her alone. She was already claimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or Kudos is much appreciated. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr through RebelCourtesan muse blog.


	10. Chapter 10

I should have known better than to think I could keep a secret forever. It wasn’t my conscious intention to keep my companionship with Takor hidden from Devin for so long. I meant to find a good time to tell him, but it never came.

Connor had figured out the mechanics of crawling and was getting into everything. We could not leave anything on the floor without expecting him getting it. So we used an ottoman to block the way into the kitchen. He would use it to pull himself up to watch me cook and whine until I picked him up. He was becoming to look more and more like Devin. Eva began calling him Little Devin.

‘Big Devin’, continued working for the Galra, but the hours kept him away from home for long stretches. He missed Connor crawling for the first time and I could see how much he regretted it. It hurt me to think he was missing these precious milestones in our son’s life. I asked Takor if it was possible for Devin to work with me in the archives. He said, regretful that all the spots were filled.

Then I told Devin he should find work closer to home.

“Don’t worry about it,” Devin said tiredly. His arm lay across my waist and his breath smelled of toothpaste and mouthwash. “No one else can pay as well as the Galra and we need the money.”

He wouldn’t tell me the truth then. I didn’t learn of it until it was too late.

For a short time, the Galra allowed communications to be open over the phone lines. We could call anyone across Ireland, but not across the sea and every call was monitored by Galra. I couldn’t call Dad, but Takor was arranging calls to Liverpool. Our talks were brief and about Connor, his little antics and milestones. I wished I could take Connor to visit Dad in Liverpool or for Dad to come to visit us. Grandfather and grandson hadn't had a chance to meet each other yet.

The day the phone lines went live Devin check in with his family in Dublin. His mother and sister were both doing well and had moved in together shortly after the invasion. It was a short pleasant conversation as time was limited for each call. I thought it was going to be a good, but then he called his brother.

“You bloody fool!” Devin yelled into the phone, startling both Connor and me.

Connor who had been proudly rolling along in his baby walker halted. He stared wide-eyed at his usually calm father and broke into a wail. I scooped him up and comforted him while shooting Devin a reproachful glare, but he paid us no attention. He was stalking across the carpet, the phone at his ear and his teeth gnashing.

“That bastard is going to bleed you dry,” Devin groused.

I mouthed “what’s wrong?”, but Devin shook his head, focusing on the voice from Dublin. There was tension in every inch of his spine and I had never seen him this way before. Not even when he was upset with me for taking the job in the archives.

Then Devin bellowed so sadly, it hurt my ears and Connor began wailing again. “I WAS MORE OF A FATHER TO YOU THAN THAT SON OF BITCH!”

He threw the phone into its cradle so hard a chip of plastic broke from the edge of the receiver. It flipped through the air until bouncing across the floor. He uttered an oath as he went upstairs, his footsteps banging each step. Poor Connor was weeping fearfully. I patted his back and sang to him, all the while watching my husband retreating back.

I gave Devin time to calm down by soothing Connor. I checked and changed his nappy, gave him a bottle, and played with him until my husband returned. His hair was still wet and stuck up in odd spikes and he had changed clothes. After dropping onto the couch, he bent forward to collect Connor and heaved back giving him a toss in the air.

“Watch Little Man fly, Mama!” Devin said as our baby was tossed a foot in the air and was deftly caught at the waist. Connor shrieked in delight at each toss, but I didn’t share in his pleasure of his being airborne. My maternal instincts screamed to put a stop to the father-son bonding ritual that could end with my child on the floor with a cracked skull. But I knew Devin needed this moment with his son. His anger with his own father ran very deep and has been with him for most of his life. He needlessly feared becoming like him.

Devin laid Connor over his chest, giving his bottom several pats before depositing him on the floor. Connor, still hyperactive, threw himself across my lap where I curled him up in my arms, tugged up his shirt, and delivered a resounding raspberry onto his tummy. After several minutes of play, I coaxed him into playing by himself with some blocks and laid my head on Devin’s knee. “What’s wrong, _anamchara_?”

I had studied Gaelic alongside French in private school. Dad insisted I take after-school lessons as he declared that we should do what we can to keep our heritage alive. I had found little use for it save for entertaining tourists wanting to hear a sample of Gaelic from the red-headed Irish woman. The language has such beautiful endearments and sometimes I used them for Devin.

His body rose and fell from a heavy sigh, the tension had left his body, but sadness had taken its place. “My brother is a bullheaded git.”

I had only met Devin’s brother, Kenneth, once at our wedding. He was a smaller, sullen version of Devin with long dark hair and rheumy blue eyes. The suit he wore was several sizes too big and bagged at the knees and elbows. The most I heard of him was whenever he needed money to pay off debt or bills. Before the invasion, Devin had sent him some with a warning to get a job soon or there would be no more loans.

“What did he do?”

“He let Dad move in with him.”

I closed my eyes. Oh no, of course, it would be Devin’s father that would get him so worked up. “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t remember all the shite that arsehole put us through. He was just a kid then and we protected him from the worst of it. Should have let his head get knocked in a few times and then he might remember.” Devin snorted derisively, “But then it might have given him more brain damage than he already has for letting that gobshite into his apartment. Da’ll drink away every cent he has and then moves onto the next milksop who’ll take him in.”

I had wondered what their father had been up to since he was released from prison for DUI. While he was in prison, Devin convinced his mother to file for divorce and cut off all ties with Kevin. Since then, Devin and his sister made certain their mother maintain a restraining order lest their father should weasel his way back into their lives.

I moved up to sit next to him on the couch and leaned my head on his shoulder. In the same motion, Devin laid an arm around me and held me. We sat in silence and watched Connor inspecting the blocks. I reached across Devin and held his other hand, “Maybe Kenneth wants to have a father in his life.”

“He’s going to get a violent drunk instead,” Devin said pained. “If it weren’t for the Galra, I would go over there . . .”

I shushed him with a finger over his lips, “We need you here. I know you hate the decision he made, it is _his_ decision. Maybe he needs to see his father for what he is for himself.”

Devin’s mouth open to protest, but he said nothing and kissed me. Our lips lingered together and only parted slightly for him to say, “You’re right. I want to protect him as I did when he was a kid, but he’s old enough now to make his own mistakes. We have too much to worry about without adding his troubles to it.”

Desire flourish between us. His eye drank me in and warmth flowed through my stomach. I swallowed back that heat and glanced at Connor, “I think I can have him down for a nap in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting upstairs.”

***

Things had been so good between us before it came to a head. Despite Galra occupation, we were relatively happy. Our rights were gone, but as long as we followed the rules, we were left alone and employed. However, the taxes went up again and the curfew back to its original hours. We didn’t know the cause until Eva told me what happened. What remained of the Defence Forces and the IRA had joined together to free Ireland from Galra rule. They had shot down several supply shuttles flying into Coleraine. The raised taxes and an extended curfew was to punish the citizens for their own people’s defiance.

I asked Eva how she knew about the Defense Forces allying with the IRA. She only tapped her nose and assured me I was better off not knowing. “As the Americans would say, loose lips sink ships.”

We were able to get by after the first payment, but afterward, we had to be frugal with food. Not that we were wasteful before, but now I served smaller portions and we only ate when we were hungry. I found myself storing canned food away as I did before the invasion.

With the raised taxes, never before had I been so grateful for my job as we would have surely lost the house by now. I didn’t say anything, but I knew Devin was aware of that fact too, but he still hated my job. Though I told him I would try to find work elsewhere, no one could pay the wages the Galra could. We were becoming reliant upon them to survive and that was one of the ways they maintained control over us.

Beverly hid her pregnancy until she finally gave up the deception. She walked in wearing maternity clothes which revealed her baby bump. Alan pretended he hadn’t seen, Aileen stared in open astonishment, and Clark whistled appreciatively.

“You’ll have to tell us who the lucky bloke is,” he said with a surly smile.

I said nothing and let Beverly tell whatever tale she wanted to give them, whether it was the truth or not. She decided to take the middle road and told them only that it was some guy in town and omitted that he was not human. Over the months, Beverly’s belly swelled alarmingly fast. At three months, she looked as if she was in her sixth month of pregnancy and the baby was so active. I could see the movement through her shirt and it seemed to make her belly a squirming ball. Had Connor been that active during my pregnancy?

She saw me staring. “Do you want to feel the baby kick?”

We had been alphabetizing files together when she asked me. I laid down the folders I had been rifling through. “Sure, if you don’t mind.” It wasn’t out of any endearing emotion, it was more out of morbid curiosity than anything.

As if my hand disturbed it, flutters of movement pressed against my palm. I felt a well-defined arm thrust across my fingers. I took my hand away. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy. I’m due in three months.”

I blinked and counted the weeks in my head. “Beverly, that’s much too soon . . .”

“Not for Galra. Their gestation period is six months.” Beverly laid her hands on the curve of her belly. “When he hears others, he gets excited and wiggles around. When I lay down in a quiet room, he relaxes and goes to sleep. I’m going to have my hands full.”

Again, an image of a human/Galra hybrid flitted through my head. I closed the hand I touched the stomach into a tight ball, determined not to wipe it on my skirt. “I’m sure he’ll be . . .a joy.”

That was the nicest thing I could say.

***

To think, it all came to a head over a fucking puppet.

One of our neighbors lost their home due to the raised taxes. Their belongings were tossed out onto the lawn and abandoned. Devin brought home a box of clothes and toys for Connor. The clothes were a boon as he seemed to outgrow his clothes every other week. After putting his new clothes in the wash I went through the toys.

There a cloth puppet with a squat face and large hook nose. It wore a floppy red cap and its body was a bag with little plastic hands at the finger inserts. Connor was playing on the floor when I surprised him with the puppet. I had it on my hand and waggled my fingers to make the head nod and the hands wave.

“Hello, Connor!” I said in a squeaky voice.

My child took one look at the puppet and screamed as if he was being tortured. I had never heard Connor scream in such a way before that I was dumbfounded. His hands were shaking and his face screwed up from the effort of his screams. Large tears rolled down his cheeks. I realized he was terrified of the puppet and I snatched it off my hand and threw it away before picking him up. I rocked and soothed him until he stopped crying. When he wasn’t looking, I put the puppet away in a drawer to throw away later but forgot all about it.

I should have thrown the damn thing away then.

Due to Mary’s daycare, she was able to keep her home, but she had more on her plate than she and her daughters could handle. There were days when they couldn’t take Connor since he was now mobile and had to be carefully watched compared to their other infant charges. So we turned to a neighbor down the street who had a teenage daughter who could babysit as needed.

Erin was a pleasant looking girl with ginger hair and freckles. While showing her around, I asked her how she and her family was doing after the Galra came. I was careful to avoid using the word invasion unless she shared the same attitude as Beverly.

She shrugged, “I don’t have to go to school and my mum’s off my arse about going to university so it’s just as well.”

It worked out fine, or at least, we thought it did. Devin would go over to collect Erin to babysit whenever he was called. Everything seemed alright, until one day I returned home early. I had been coming down with a cold and Aileen insisted I go home and rest. Not out of any concern for me, she didn’t wish to become sick herself.

As I walked up the drove, I could hear the screaming coming from inside the house. I burst through the door so hard I bruised my palm. There was laughter mingled with the cries and what I saw stopped my heart cold. In the living room, Erin was holding Connor on her lap while a teenage boy I had never seen before waved the puppet in his face. Connor, my poor terrified baby, was screaming with his hands flapping from sheer panic. Erin and the boy’s mirthful grins fell in shock I barged in.

I tore into the room, my blood boiling from the paroxysm of fury. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM!?”

Erin opened her mouth as if to speak, but only stumbled over her words. The boy stood straight dropping the puppet on the floor as if it was the murder weapon in a crime. I shoved him aside and snatched Connor from Erin. His little heart was beating so fast and his hands were still quivering. The fear in his tearful eyes shook me to my core. I rounded on the boy who turned pale under my seething glare.

“Get the hell out of my house,” I hissed in a voice I did not recognize as my own.

The boy fled without a word or even a glance at Erin. His shoes beat a path straight to the door and it slammed shut behind him.

Erin rose to her feet. “We were only playing with him . . .”

Then it was Erin’s turn to face my wrath. “Get out and don’t ever come back here again.”

Erin shrank but stood her ground. Lifting her chin, she had the audacity to demand, “What about my pay?”

“I’m not paying you to terrorize my baby,” I said with steel in my voice. “Get the fuck out of my house.” That was the first time I had ever used that word.

Erin blustered, her face turning nearly as red as her hair, “I’m telling my Mum!”

“You do that.”

After the door shut behind her, I continued comforting Connor. I swore to him that I would never let anyone frighten him ever again between kisses. I held him close and walked with him, even swaying with him in a small dance. Once he calmed, I gave him a bottle and rocked him as he drained it. We were weaning him off the bottle, but right then I wanted to give him all the solace I could. He fell asleep in my arms and I put him in his crib. Downstairs, I took the puppet and threw it away, hating myself for not doing so before.

I couldn’t sleep at all. Not until Devin came home after midnight. In the meantime, I cleaned the house; swept and mopped the floors, wiping down the counters and cabinets, and scrubbed the bathtub and shower. Before I could get started on vacuuming, Devin came home and I told him what happened.

He was infuriated as I. It gave him new energy despite his long hours at work. “She’s been having boys over while we were at work!? Snogging them around our baby!? You should have gotten the little shite’s name.”

“I wanted them out of our house. Fast.” I was sitting on the couch, exhausted from anger and late night cleaning. “I told them to never come here again.”

“I ought to go to her house and have it out with her parents for raising such a shameful brat,” Devin snarled. He paced the carpet, leaving a thin trail of soot that made me glad I had dragged out the vacuum.

“You can’t do that,” I said. “You’ll get arrested for breaking curfew and I already dealt with it. If you want to blame anyone, then blame me for not throwing the puppet out, to begin with.”

“Did you check to see if anything was stolen?” Devin groused, stalking into the kitchen. He opened and closed the drawers and then the fridge. “I wouldn’t be surprised if those little bastards were helping themselves to our food.”

“I don’t know,” I sighed, longing for bed. “I haven’t noticed anything missing. Please, calm down, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

I had to plead with him another hour to get him to come to bed with me. I went to sleep believing the matter had ended. I should have known that Erin was doing as she had said. She was telling her mother her side of the story.

***

As much as Dad enjoy our weekly chats, he became suspicious of how I was able to attain this rare privilege. I could never outright lie to him, but I could skirt around uncomfortable topics with him.

“You care to tell me how we’re able to talk to each other from across the Irish Sea while everyone else can’t get a signal beyond two miles from each other?”

Dad wouldn’t like my being around Galra anymore than Devin and Takor were watching me. I kept my voice light and calm, free of any hesitant stutters. “A friend set this up for me, but he asked me not to say too much in case he gets in trouble.”

There. The truth without giving away anything incriminating. He didn’t believe me of course, but he knew when to pursue or to let go. He did give me one warning though before the call ended. “You be careful, girl.”

It was a warning he gave whenever he thought I was doing something I shouldn’t or anything he didn’t approve of. He said the same when I broke up with the boyfriend he introduced me to.

Takor ended the connection and gave the terminal an appreciative look, “Your father is . . . tenacious.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

We had become closer since that first day when he surprised me with the call to my father. We chatted together a lot. Our topics stayed on safe subjects such as the weather, work, Connor, and Galra politics.

Galra propaganda polluted our television, sometimes sharing bits of history of the Empire. Most of the propaganda revolved around their Emperor. Emperor Zarkon decrying traitors. Emperor Zarkon attending gladiatorial fights. Emperor Zarkon overseeing the execution of traitors and insurgents. Emperor Zarkon awarding promotions and fiefdoms to generals and commanders. Sometimes, the propaganda switched to history announcing the many accomplishments of Emperor Zarkon. Upon paying attention to such a program, more for curiosity than entertainment, I noticed that these events were set at long intervals. Galra years were longer than Earth years. I was weak when it came to math, but I was knowledgeable enough to know that these events were happening many, many years apart.

“He’s the same Emperor?” I said bewildered. I had been under the impression that the name Zarkon was a regal name each successor took through the ages.

Takor told me that the Imperial throne hadn’t changed hands since an event he called the Betrayal. He said Betrayal as if it should start with a capital B and it was spoken solemnly, such as one would speak of the Holocaust.

“But it’s not possible for someone to live that long,” I said. 10,000 years . . .that was older than human civilization. He was alive long before humans developed writing. Long before Earth itself was created if you believe the dictations of the Bible.

“He’s our Emperor,” Takor said assertively, but kindly, as if his words explained everything. “He’s what made the Galra Empire what it is today. If it weren’t for Him, then our kind would be traveling the stars homeless and scattered. Under His rule, our Empire will spread to the very edges of the Universe itself and beyond.”

A chill crawled down my spine and I didn’t know why. We were alone in his office, but I wasn’t afraid of him . . . but there was something about him now that made me ill at ease. He took my hand, his long fingers curling around it and squeezed tight. He wasn’t hurting me, but it was alarming. His grip was firm, unrelenting as if he would draw me into an embrace.

Golden eyes with no center glowed and reverence carried high in his voice. “Your people were always at war with each other, but under the Empire, you’re united. Your people have barely scratched the surface of intergalactic travel, and now I - we can show you the wonders of the Universe. You only have to be loyal to the Emperor, to the Empire..”

Then I realized what it was that unnerved me so. He was speaking about the Empire and Emperor Zarkon as I would if I was talking about Christianity and Jesus Christ. The warnings of being careful, staying away from Galra came back to me. I felt a desperate need to get away from Takor, to just run away.

As if sensing my fear, he let go of my hand. There were small white marks on my skin where his claws had pricked and I kept myself from rubbing them.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Bridget,” he told me. “You have nothing to fear as long as you obey the laws and I’ll look out for you . . .and Connor. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

I stood, one hand gripping the other wrist where I had been marked. His words were meant to reassure me, but they didn’t. Perhaps back then I was receiving an omen of what was to come, my last chance to step back before walking off a cliff.

I excused myself and went back to work, Takor’s words weighing on me. They had disallowed church services or any religious gatherings. How long before they forbid worship? Before they expected us all to bow down to glorify their immortal Emperor? I told myself not to worry about things that may or may not come. I had enough worries in my life right now without fearing what the future may bring.

I should have been worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or Kudos is much appreciated.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr through RebelCourtesan muse blog.


	11. Chapter 11

I should have known better than to think I could keep a secret forever.  It wasn’t my conscious intention to keep my companionship with Takor hidden from Devin for so long.  I meant to find a good time to tell him, but it never came.  

By the time Devin learned the truth, Connor had figured out the mechanics of crawling and was getting into everything within his reach.  We could not leave anything on the floor without expecting him getting it and we used an ottoman to block the way into the kitchen.  He would use it to pull himself up to watch me cook and whine until I picked him up.  He was becoming to look more and more like Devin until Eva began affectionately calling him Little Devin.

‘Big Devin’, continued working for the Galra, but the hours kept him away from home for long stretches.  He missed Connor crawling for the first time and I could see how much he regretted it.  It hurt me to think he was missing these precious milestones in our son’s life.  I asked Takor if it was possible for Devin to work with me in the archives.  He said, regretfully, that all the spots were filled.  

Then I told Devin he should find work closer to home.

“Don’t worry about it,” Devin said tiredly.  His arm lay across my waist and his breath smelled of toothpaste and mouthwash, a luxury item we could afford.  “No one else can pay as well as the Galra and we need the money.”

He wouldn’t tell me the truth then.  I didn’t learn of it until it was too late.  

Things improved for humans over the months.  The curfew was shortened by a couple of hours allowing the pubs to stay open late enough for those coming off from work to enjoy.  I never worried about Devin coming home drunk from the pub.  He mostly went for the companionship and limited himself to only one pint, fearful that if he become his father.     

For a short time, the Galra allowed communications to be open over the phone lines.  For the first time, we could call someone across Ireland, but not across the sea and every call was heavily monitored by Galra.  I couldn’t call Dad, but at least Takor would still arrange calls to Liverpool and he remained in the room listening and watching silently.  Our talks were brief and mostly about Connor, his little antics and milestones.  I wished I could take Connor to visit Dad in Liverpool or for Dad to come visit us as grandfather and grandson never met yet.

The day the phone lines went live Devin check in with his family in Dublin.  His mother and sister reported they were both doing well and had moved in together shortly after the invasion.  It was a short pleasant conversation as time was limited for each call.  I thought it was going to be a good, but  then he called his brother.

“You bloody fool!”  Devin yelled into the phone, startling both Connor and me.

Connor who had been proudly rolling along in his baby walker halted, staring wide eyed at his usually calm father and broke into a wail.  I hurriedly scooped him up and comforted him while shooting Devin a reproachful glare, but he paid us no attention.  He was stalking across the carpet, the phone at his ear and his teeth literally gnashing.  

“That bastard is going to bleed you dry.  You should have turned him away the second he darken your doorstep,” Devin groused.

I mouthed  _ “what’s wrong?”,  _ but Devin shook his head, focusing on the voice from Dublin.  There was tension in every inch of his spine and I had never seen him this way before.  Not even when he was upset with me for taking the job in the archives.  

Then Devin bellowed so sadly, it hurt my ears and Connor began wailing again.  “I WAS MORE OF A FATHER TO YOU THAN THAT SON OF BITCH!”

He threw the phone into its cradle so hard a chip of plastic broke from the edge of the receiver and flipped through the air until bouncing across the floor.  He uttered an oath as he went upstairs, his footsteps slamming heavily on each step.  Poor Connor was weeping pitifully and I patted his back and singing soothingly to him, all the while watching my husband retreating back.  

Once Connor had calmed down, I gave Devin his own time to calm down by checking Connor’s diaper, giving him a bottle, and played with him until Devin returned.  His hair was still wet and stuck up in odd spikes and he had changed clothes.  After lowering himself onto the couch, he bent forward to collect Connor and heaved back giving him a toss in the air.

“Watch Little Man fly, Mama!”  Devin said as our baby was tossed nearly a foot in the air and was deftly caught.  Connor shrieked in delight at each toss, but I didn’t share in his pleasure of his being airborne.  My maternal instincts screamed for me to put a stop to the father-son bonding ritual that could end with my child on the floor with a cracked skull, but I knew Devin needed this moment with his son.  His anger with his own father ran very deep and has been with him for most of his life.   He needlessly feared becoming like him.

Devin laid Connor over his chest, giving his bottom several pats before depositing him on the floor.  Connor, still hyperactive, threw himself across my lap where I curled him up in my arms, tugged up his shirt, and delivered a resounding raspberry onto his tummy.  After several minutes of play, I coaxed him into playing by himself with some blocks and laid my head on Devin’s knee.  “What’s wrong,  _ anamchara?” _

I had studied Gaelic alongside French in private school.  Dad insisted I take after school lessons as it was dying language and he declared that we should do what we can to keep our heritage alive.  I had found little use for it save for entertaining tourists who came to the restaurant and asked for a sample of Gaelic from the red headed Irish woman.  The language has such beautiful endearments and sometimes I used them for Devin.

His body rose and fell from a heavy sigh, the tension had left his body, but sadness had taken its place.  “My brother is a bullheaded git.”

I had only met Devin’s brother, Kenneth, once at our wedding.  He was a smaller, sullen version of Devin with longer dark hair and rheumy blue eyes.  The suit he wore was several sizes too big and bagged at the knees and elbows.  I was uncomfortable around him as he kept giving me wanton stares throughout the ceremony and afterwards until we left the church.  Since then, the most I heard of him was whenever he needed money to pay off debt or bills.  Before the invasion, Devin had sent him some with a warning to get a job soon or there would be no more loans.

“What did he do?”

“He let Dad move in with him.”  

I closed my eyes.  Oh no, of course it would be Devin’s father that would get him so worked up.  “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t remember all the shite that arsehole put us through.  He was just a kid then and we protected him from the worst of it.  Should have let his head get knocked in a few times and then he might remember.”  Devin snorted derisively, “But then it might have given him more brain damage than he already has for letting that gobshite into his apartment.  Da’ll drink away every cent he has and then move onto the next milksop who’ll take him in.”

I had wondered what their father had been up to since he was released from prison for DUI.  While he was in prison, Devin convinced his mother to file for divorce under the complaint of spousal and child abuse.  Since then, a restraining order had been set in place with Devin and his sister insisting their mother request a renewal each year lest their father should weasel his way back into their lives.   

I moved up to sit next to him on the couch and leaned my head on his shoulder.  In the same motion, Devin laid an arm around me and held me.  We sat in silence and watched Connor inspect a block before smacking it into another set between his legs.  I reached across Devin and held his other hand, “Maybe Kenneth wants to have a father in his life.”

“He’s going to get a violent drunk instead,” Devin said pained.  “If it weren’t for the Galra, I would go over there . . .”

I shushed him with a finger over his lips, “We need you here.  I know you hate the decision he made, it is  _ his  _ decision.  Maybe he needs to see his father for what he is for himself.”  

Devin’s mouth open to protest, but he said nothing and kissed me.  Our lips lingered together and only parted slightly for him to say, “You’re right.  Iwant to protect him as I did when he was a kid, but he’s old enough now to make his own mistakes.  We have too much to worry about without adding his troubles to it.”

Desire flourish between us.  His eye drank me in and warmth flowed through my stomach.  I swallowed back that heat and glanced at Connor, “I think I can have him down for a nap in about twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting upstairs.”

 

***

 

Things had been so good between us before it came to a head.  Despite Galra occupation, we were relatively happy.  Our rights were gone, but as long as we followed the rules, we were left alone and employed.  However, eventually, the taxes went up again and the curfew back to its original hours.  We didn’t know the cause until Eva told me that what remained of the Defence Forces and the IRA had joined together to free Ireland from alien rule.  They had shot down several supply shuttles flying into Coleraine.  The raised taxes and extended curfew was to punish the citizens for their own people’s defiance.

I asked Eva how she knew about the Defense Forces allying with the IRA.  She only tapped her nose and assured me I was better off not knowing.  “As the Americans would say, loose lips sink ships.”

We were able to get by after the first payment, but for the first time since I started work in the archives, we had to be frugal with food.  Not that we were wasteful before, but now I served smaller portions and we only ate if we were hungry.  I found myself storing canned food away as I did before the invasion.    

With the raised taxes, never before had I been so grateful for my job as we would have surely lost the house by now.  I didn’t say anything, but I knew Devin was aware of that fact too, but he still hated my job.  Though I told him I would try to find work elsewhere, no one could pay the wages the Galra could.  We were becoming reliant upon them to survive and that was likely one of the ways they maintained control over us.    

Beverly hid her pregnancy until she finally gave up the deception and walked in wearing maternity clothes showing off her condition.  Alan pretended he hadn’t seen, Aileen stared openly, and Clark whistled appreciatively.

“You’ll have to tell us who the lucky bloke is,” he said with a surly smile.

I said nothing and let Beverly tell whatever tale she wanted to give them, whether it was the truth or not.  She decided to take the middle road and told them only that it was some guy in town and omitted that he was not human.  Over the months, Beverly’s belly swell alarmingly fast.  At three months, she looked as if she was in her sixth month of pregnancy and the baby was so active.  I could see the movement through her shirt and it seemed to make her belly a squirming ball.  Had Connor been that active during my pregnancy?   

She saw me staring.  “Do you want to feel the baby kick?”

We had been alphabetizing files together when she asked me.  I laid down the folders I had been rifling through.  “Sure, if you don’t mind.”  It wasn’t out of any endearing emotion, it was more out of morbid curiosity than anything.  

As if my hand disturbed it, flutters of movement pressed against my palm and I felt a well defined arm thrust across my fingers.  I took my hand away.  “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy.  I’m due in three months.”

I blinked and counted the weeks in my head.  “Beverly, that’s much too soon . . .”

“Not for Galra.  Their gestation period is six months.”  Beverly laid her hands on the curve of her belly.  “When he hears others, he gets excited and wiggles around.  When I lay down in a quiet room, he relaxes and goes to sleep.  I’m going to have my hands full.”

Again, an image of a human/Galra hybrid flitted through my head.  I closed the hand I touched the stomach into a tight ball, determine not to wipe it on my skirt.  “I’m sure he’ll be . . .a joy.”  

That was all I could say.  

 

***

 

To think, it all came to a head over a fucking puppet.

One of our neighbors lost their home due to the raised taxes.  Their belongings were tossed out onto the lawn and abandoned for anyone who walked by to help themselves.  Devin brought home a box of clothes and toys for Connor which were a boon as he seemed to outgrow his clothes every other week.  After putting his clothes in the wash I went through the toys.

There a cloth puppet with a squat face and large hook nose.  It wore a floppy red cap and it’s body was just a bag with little plastic hands at the finger inserts.  Connor was playing on the floor when I surprised him with the puppet.  I had it on my hand and waggled my fingers to make the head nod and the hands wave.  

“Hello, Connor!”  I said in a squeaky voice.

My child took one look at the puppet and screamed as if he was being tortured.  I had never heard Connor scream in such a way before that I was dumbfounded.  His hands were shaking and his face screwed up from the effort of his screams and large tears rolled down his cheeks.  I realized he was terrified of the puppet and I snatched it off my hand and threw it away before picking him up.  I rocked and soothed him until he stopped crying and when he wasn’t looking, I put the puppet away in a drawer to throw away later, but forgot all about it.

I should have thrown the damn thing away then.

Due to Mary’s daycare booming business, she was able to keep her home, but she had more on her plate than she and her daughters could handle.  There were days when they couldn’t take Connor in since he was now mobile and had to be carefully watched compared to their other infant charges.  A neighbor down the street had a teenage daughter who could babysit as needed.

Erin was a pleasant looking girl with ginger hair and freckles.  While showing her around, I asked her how she and her family was doing after the Glara came (I was careful to avoid using the word invasion unless she shared the same attitude as Beverly).

She shrugged, “I don’t have to go to school and my mum’s off my arse about going to university so it’s just as well.”

It worked out fine, or at least, we thought it did.  Devin would go over to collect Erin to babysit whenever he was called away and she would sit with Connor until I came home.   Everything seemed alright, until one day I returned home early.  I had been coming down with a cold and Aileen insisted I go home and rest.  Not out of any concern for me, thought, she didn’t wish to become sick herself.  

As I walked up the drove, I could hear the screaming coming from inside the house.  I burst through the door so hard I bruised my palm.  There was laughter mingled with the cries and what I saw stopped my heart cold.  In the livingroom Erin was holding Connor on her lap while a teenage boy I had never seen before waved the puppet in his face.  Connor, my poor terrified baby, was screaming with his hands flapping from sheer panic.  Erin and the boy’s mirthful grins fell in shock I barged in.

I tore into the room, my blood boiling from the paroxysm of fury.  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM!?”

Erin opened her mouth as if to speak, but only stumbled over her words.  The boy stood straight dropping the puppet on the floor as if it was the murder weapon in a crime.  I shoved him aside and snatched Connor from Erin.  His little heart was beating so fast and his hands were still quivering.  The fear in his tearful eyes shook me to my core.  I rounded on the boy who turned pale under my seething glare.

“Get the hell out of my house,” I hissed in a voice I barely recognized as my own.  

The boy fled without a word or even a glance at Erin.  His shoes beat a path straight to the door and it slammed shut behind him.   

Erin slowly rose to her feet.  “We were just playing with him . . .”

Then it was Erin’s turn to face my wrath.  “Get out and don’t ever come back here again.”

Erin shrank, but stood her ground.  Lifting her chin, she had the audacity to demand,  “What about my pay?”

“I’m not paying you to terrorize my baby,” I said steelily.  “Get the fuck out of house.”  That was the first time I had ever used that word.  

Erin blustered, her face turning nearly as red as her hair, “I’m telling my Mum!”

“You do that.”

After the door shut behind her, I continued comforting Connor, swearing to him that I would never let anyone frighten him ever again between kisses.  I held him close and walked with him, even swaying with him in a small dance.  Once he calmed, I gave him a bottle and rocked him as he drained it.  We were weaning him off the bottle, but right then I wanted to give him all the solace I could.  He fell asleep in my arms and I put him in his crib.  Downstairs, I took the puppet and threw it away, hating myself for not doing so before.  

I couldn’t sleep at all.  Not until Devin came home after midnight.  In the meantime, I cleaned the house; sweeping and mopping the floors, wiping down the counters and cabinets, and scrubbed the bathtub and shower.  Before I could get started on vacuuming, Devin came home and I told him what happened.

He was infuriated as I was.  It gave him new energy despite his long hours at work.  “She’s been having boys over while we were at work!?  Maybe snogging them around our baby!?  You should have gotten the little shit’s name.”

“I just wanted them out of our house.”  I was sitting on the couch, exhausted from anger and late night cleaning.  “I told them to never come here again.”

“I ought to go to her house and have it out with her parents for raising such a shameful brat,” Devin snarled, pacing the carpet, leaving a thin trail of soot that made me glad I had dragged out the vacuum.  

“You can’t do that,” I said firmly.  “You’ll get arrested for breaking curfew and I already dealt with it.  If you want to blame anyone, then blame me for not throwing the puppet out to begin with.”

“Did you check to see if anything was stolen?”  Devin groused, stalking into the kitchen.  He opened and closed the drawers and then the fridge.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if those little bastards were helping themselves to our food.”

“I don’t know,” I sighed, longing for bed.  “I haven’t noticed anything missing.  Please, calm down, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

I had to plead with him another hour to get him come to bed with me.  I went to sleep believing the matter had ended.  I should have known that Erin was doing as she had said.  She was telling her mother her side of story.

 

***

 

As much as Dad enjoy our weekly chats, he became suspicious of how I was able to attain this rare privilege of speaking with him across the sea.  I could never outright lie to him, but I could skirt around uncomfortable topics, sometimes without arousing his suspicion.  

“You care to tell me how we’re able to talk to each other from across the Irish Sea while everyone else can’t get a signal beyond two miles from each other?”

Dad wouldn’t like my being around Galra anymore than Devin and Takor was watching me intently.  I kept my voice light and calm, free of any hesitant stutters.  “A friend set this up for me, but he asked me not to say too much in case he gets in trouble.”

There.  The truth without giving away anything incriminating.  He didn’t believe me of course, but he knew when to pursue or to let go.  He did give me one warning though, before the call ended.  “You be careful, girl.”

It was a warning he gave whenever he thought I was doing something I shouldn’t or anything he didn’t wholeheartedly approve of.  He said the same when I broke up with the boyfriend he introduced me to, before I met Devin.  

Takor ended the connection and gave the terminal an appreciative look, “Your father is . . . tenacious.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

We had become closer since that first day when he surprised me with the call to my father.  We chatted a lot, our topics staying on safe subjects such as the weather, work, Connor, and sometimes, we delve a little into Galra politics.

Galra propaganda polluted our television, sometimes sharing bits of history of the Empire.  Most of the propaganda revolved around their Emperor.  Emperor Zarkon decrying insurgents on planets I never heard of, Emperor Zarkon attending gladiatorial fights, Emperor Zarkon overseeing the execution of traitors, and Emperor Zarkon awarding promotions and fiefdoms to generals and commanders.  All of these being announced at different long, long intervals of time.  Galra years were longer than Earth years and though I’m weak with math and numbers, but I was knowledgeable enough to know that these events were happening many, many years apart.

“He’s the same Emperor?”  I said bewildered.  I had been under the impression that the name Zarkon was a regnal name each successor took as his own through the ages.    

An amused Takor told me that they were all the same man, that the Imperial throne hadn’t changed hands since an event he called the Betrayal.  He said betrayal as if it should start with a capital B and it was spoken solemnly, such as one would speak of the Holocaust.

“But it’s not possible for someone to live that long,” I said.  10,000 years . . .that was older than human civilization.  He was alive long before humans developed writing, when they still were hunting and gathering food, living in caves or in nomadic tribes.  Long before Earth itself was created if you believe the dictations of the Bible.    

“He’s our Emperor,” Takor said assertively, but kindly, as if his words explained everything.  “He’s what made the Galra Empire what it is today.  If it weren’t for Him, then our kind would be traveling the stars homeless and scattered.  Under His rule, our Empire will spread to the very edges of the Universe itself and, perhaps, beyond.”

A chill crawled down my spine and I didn’t know why.  We were alone in his office, but I wasn’t afraid of him . . . but there was something about him now that made me ill at ease.  He took my hand, his long fingers curling around it and squeezed tight.  He wasn’t hurting me, but it was alarming.  His grip was firm, unrelenting, as if he would draw me into an embrace.  

Golden eyes with no centre glowed and reverence carried high in his voice.  “Your people were always at war with each other, but under the Empire, you’re united.  Your people have barely scratched the surface of intergalactic travel, and now I - we can show you the wonders of the Universe.  You only have to be loyal to the Emperor, to the Empire..”

Then I realized what it was that unnerved me so.  He was speaking about the Empire and Emperor Zarkon as I would if I was talking about Christianity and Jesus Christ with a non-believer.  The warnings of being careful, staying away from Galra came back to me and I felt a desperate need to get away from Takor, to just run away.  

As if sensing my fear, he let go of my hand.  There were small white marks on my skin where his claws had pricked and I kept myself from rubbing them.  

“You don’t have to be afraid, Bridget,” he told me.  “You have nothing to fear as long as you obey the laws and I’ll look out for you . . .and Connor.  I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

I stood, one hand gripping the other wrist where I had been marked.  His words were meant to reassure me, but they didn’t.  Perhaps back then I was receiving an omen of what was to come, my last chance to step back before walking off a cliff.

I excused myself and went back to work, Takor’s words weighing heavily on me.  They had disallowed church services or any religious gatherings.  How long before they forbid worship?  Before they expected us all to bow down to glorify their immortal Emperor?  I told myself not to worry about things that may or may not come.  I had enough worries in my life right now without fearing what the future may bring.

I should have been worried.    

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Mary’s daycare still had more charges than she could handle. There was no room for Connor, and nor could we find a sitter we trusted. Erin had come across as responsible when we met her and look at how that turned out. Every potential sitter seemed to have lurking eccentricities that would make them unfit to be around Connor. 

As much as I would love to have Eva as an available sitter, she was busy elsewhere and couldn’t guarantee she would be on hand whenever Devin was called away. I ended up cutting my hours short so I could be home in time to watch Connor thus also cutting my wages short. Paying off the taxes next month was possible, but it would be very tight and next month would be a struggle. If they raised the taxes anymore, then we were in serious trouble.

I had to shop more frugally, sometimes even going out of my way to find stores that sold what we needed at lower prices. Food was becoming scarce as imports from the mainland were being strangled by Galra security. People were trying to leave the island to head to countries rumored not to be under Galra control. I didn’t know whether these rumors were true or not, and Eva was keeping mum about it. She spoke very little of what she knew or how she knew of it. 

Vendors came from the countryside to sell homegrown produce. Often I walked past a vendor and prospective customer haggling over prices as they had back in the old days where it goods were brought to market by horse and cart. You don’t hear any more vegan or vegetarian diets anymore. Now everyone ate what they could afford or raised themselves. We hadn’t been reduced to eating cats and dogs, but that may not be too far off if the taxes weren’t lowered soon. 

Connor babbled to himself as I pushed him along in his pushchair with groceries stored in a compartment beneath his seat. It was a bright day with a cool breeze that carried a promise of colder weeks ahead. It was fortunate Devin brought home warm baby clothes for Connor, but I worried about when he would outgrow them by the middle of winter. 

I was browsing through a meager supply of canned food when Erin’s mother approached me. She was a short, plump woman with ginger hair balled into tight curls in a chignon. Blue eyeshadow made her gray eyes stand out like two pieces of glass. Crows feet quivered around her eyes and mouth whenever she spoke. Her red-rimmed mouth was set in a tight line as she gazed at me with strong disapproval as if I was a wicked child who told a dirty joke. “Mrs. Walsh, I would like to have a word with you.”

I certainly didn’t want to have any words with her, unless she was apologizing for her daughter’s actions. I minded my manners, “Yes, Mrs. Gregor, how can I help you?”

“You owe my daughter an apology and her pay,” Mrs. Gregor said with a tilt of her chin. Her other chins followed upward. 

I stared at her, uncomprehending. “I beg your pardon, I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

“You treated my child cruelly and refused to pay her for babysitting wee Connor. I understand there was a misunderstanding between you two, but you overreacted . . .”

“You’re the one who misunderstood or perhaps your daughter didn’t tell you exactly what happened,” I said struggling to keep my words calm. My hands tightened the pushchair’s handles in a white-knuckle grip. “Your daughter had a boy over while she was supposed to be watching Connor and let that boy frighten him.”

“They were only playing,” Mrs. Gregor said in a gentle voice as if explaining a simple fact to a slow child. “And Randolf is a good lad, he wouldn’t do such a thing. You’ve been telling stories about her and she can’t find any work babysitting because of it.”

“I only told the truth,” I said, almost strangling myself to keep from shouting at her. I had enough. She wasn’t listening to me nor did I care to make her understand. “Mrs. Gregor, I have other errands to run and time is short before curfew. I have to go.”

“Mrs. Walsh, I am not finished speaking with you.” Her chin wobbled as she spoke like jelly. 

“Yes, you are,” I said without looking at her.

I left her standing there, went to the cashier, and set my purchases on the counter. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. Gregor coming up the aisle pushing her cart along and getting in line behind me. “Mrs. Walsh, we have not finished speaking.”

“We have nothing else to discuss,” I said through gritted teeth. I ignored her as I threw several gac chits on the counter which the nervous cashier collected while glancing between the two of us. She quickly bagged my groceries and pushed them across the counter to me in a bid to have us leave as soon as possible. I took the bag and left with the same idea in mind. 

I had hoped to be well on my way home before Mrs. Gregor finished paying for her groceries. Unfortunately, I was pushing Connor along the street while Mrs. Gregor went unhindered. She caught up to me on the street, huffing like around train as she went, her bag swinging from a closed fist. 

“Mrs. Walsh, you are being rude!” She wheezed.

“Please, leave me alone,” I said maneuvering Connor’s pushchair around a corner. 

We were at the edge of the curb to avoid the busy lines at the vendors. Mrs. Gregor grabbed the handle of the pushchair my hand and jerked me to a halt. The pushchair’s wheels rattled on the flagstones and twisted to the side. Connor squawked in surprise. 

“You will pay my daughter what she is owed,” Mrs. Gregor said sternly as if I was some undisciplined child. “Whether you apologize or not is on your own conscious and between you and God.”

“I will do neither,” I snapped. “Let go and leave me alone!”

My heart was racing and I couldn’t believe she was going this far to confront me. What did Erin tell her? 

I tried to pull the pushchair free, but she jerked it again, hard, tossing Connor forward. Only the tray table kept him from being flung out of the pushchair. I shrieked in fright and shoved Mrs. Gregor away, “Stop it! Go away!”

“Not until you pay what you owe my daughter! It’s 15 gac. I will stand here until you collect that amount from your purse and give it to me.” She had dropped her bag in her struggle with me. A can roll and glanced off my heel and then dropped onto the street. 

I saw now that Mrs. Gregor was a bully and she had taught her daughter how to be one too. Her daughter told lies to ensure her mother would be on her side and Mrs. Gregor was more than willing to fight her daughter’s battles. I refused to give in and shoved her again. “Get away from us!”

People were watching, their shopping forgotten. Some looked on in concern, wanting to help, but not willing to get involved. Others were watching amused, glad to have some entertainment on a boring autumn day. As if sensing she had an audience, Mrs. Gregor twisted her grip and the pushchair tilted. The right side wheels lifted off the flagstones and Connor was leaning precariously above the asphalt. Any more and he would fall out of the pushchair. I screamed, grabbing the other handle with both hands and pulled hard on it with all my might. The pushchair was uprighted with a bounce and Connor wailed.

“Please stop!” I begged.

There was a gleam in Mrs. Gregor’s eye and to my fury and horror, I realized she was taking perverse pleasure in this. She was a woman used to getting her way and woe to those who crossed or denied her. I was about to throw the money in her face to get her to leave my son alone when Takor arrived.

A groundcar sped up to the curb, coming to a sharp halt, and Takor climbed out, fur bristling and eyes glowing.

The market went silent as all eyes followed the Galra as he stalked around the car in few long strides. Mrs. Gregor’s eyes went wide as she was grabbed by someone who topped her by at least three feet and hauled her away from me. She was pinned to the side of the groundcar with a powerful hand on her shoulders. He held her there as easily as if she were paper mache. She protested and shrieked when his claws cut through her cardigan and nearly drew blood. For the first time in her adult life, she had met someone who could not be intimidated or overcome. 

Takor looked me over, “Are you alright?”

My mouth was so dry it took several tries before I could find my voice, “Y-y-yes.”

“Is Connor alright?”

I hastily knelt by Connor. He was crying, afraid, but unharmed. “Yes, he’s fine.”

Mrs. Gregor tried to speak. “Sir, you don’t understand . . .”

Without looking at her, Takor lifted her up and then smacked her down onto the groundcar with a thud. The woman grunted in pain, but I had little sympathy for her. Her chignon had fallen loose with curls hanging in her face like shredded paper and her makeup was beginning to smear around the eyes. People were clearing the street and vendors gathered their wares and fled. 

If Takor noticed the people dashing away, he didn’t care. His eyes were on mine. “Do you want me to arrest her?”

At his words, Mrs. Gregor moaned. 

I considered it for a moment, tempted by it. First, her daughter menaced my son and then she tried to mug me on the street. Right now, Mrs. Gregor was making a low keening sound which was becoming sobs. I took no small pleasure in seeing her wiggle like a worm on a hook, but I felt no need to push the matter further. “No. I just want her to stay away from me.”

Takor released Mrs. Gregor. She slumped against the groundcar in relief. Then he turned her around by the shoulder and bent down, bringing his face close to hers. With a click of his teeth, he growled, “You are to stay away from Bridget Walsh. You do not go near her, her family, or her home. If you so much as spit in her direction, I’ll arrest you and your entire family. Do you understand?”

Mrs. Gregor’s lips tremble and her face was so pale it made the eyeshadow stand out like bruises. She couldn’t speak, but only nod, her eyes so wide I thought they would bulge out of her skull. When Takor released her, she fled, leaving her groceries scattered on the street. I left them there knowing they would soon be claimed by those who needed them more.

I held Connor closed, kissing his cheek and humming to him. His racing heart nearly matched the speed of my own. It hurt me someone threatened my son. I quailed at the thought that he might be traumatized from these encounters with the Gregor family. With the adrenaline fading away, the horror of someone attacking us caught up with me. 

I brushed the tears away on my sleeve. There were a few brave souls who were staring from a safe distance away. I felt like I was on display and I wanted to be away from there, to go home. I didn’t think to refuse when Takor gently coaxed me into the car as he had done the day it had rained. Everyone watched me get into a Galra’s car and drive away with him. That was how the rumors started.

The car ride calmed Connor who whimpered but looked around curiously until he laid his eyes on Takor. He stared in open wonder at the purple alien, easing my nerves. If could he find something to distract him from crying, then perhaps the incident with Mrs. Gregor hadn’t left much of a mark. Calmer, I found it easier to speak again, “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Takor said, giving me a quick smile. “If you don’t mind my asking, what was that all about?”

I sighed regretting the whole ordeal. I told him about walking in on Erin and her boyfriend with Connor with the assurance that Takor would listen to me and sympathize. He hummed in sympathy and grunted angrily as I told him what happened in the store and how Mrs. Gregor accosted me outside.

“If you change your mind, I can still arrest her. Just give the word,” Takor said. 

I shook my head, “No, I think your warning was enough.” I took some satisfaction in the memory of Mrs. Gregor’s flight. I hoped she ran all the way home in such a panic, then felt guilty for wishing ill on another, even if that person had almost spilled my baby onto the road.

I distracted myself by wondering if this was the same groundcar as before. It looked the same, warm and comfortable, though roomy for a Galra’s greater size. This time I wasn’t afraid as I had been before and I was glad to be away from the market. I had no idea of what the following consequences would be. 

“Thank you for helping me,” I said. “I have no idea what would have happened if you hadn’t come along.”

“I’ll always help you,” Takor said, reassuringly. “You only have to ask.”

I believed him. Gratitude, love, and affection for him welled inside me. At that moment, I adored him for saving me and my baby. He must have sensed it as he reached over and laid a hand on my shoulder. The tips of the talons pricked at my shirt and it didn’t unnerve me as it would have before. It was Takor.

Connor took this chance to sate his curiosity by reaching up and sinking his hands into the fur Takor’s forearm. Today, Takor wasn’t wearing his usual Imperial armor or suit and wore what seemed to be casual wear. He wore an off white shirt that stood in sharp contrast against his purple fur and dark leggings. There was a belt at his waist with pouches looped through it and at his hip was a holstered pistol. I wondered if Galra civilians dressed like this or perhaps this was own Takor’s style..

“No!” I said sharply to Connor who gave me an affronted look, his hands still grasping Takor’s fur.

“It’s alright,” Takor assured me. “I don’t mind . . .”

“He’ll pull your fur out by the root,” I said giving Connor a firm look. My father told me that children were never too young to learn discipline and what the word ‘no’ meant. Connor, to his consternation, learned what no meant when he got hold of a box of tissues and wanted to pull each one out. He had screamed for almost half an hour after I took the box away and would not give it back no matter how much he wailed. ‘No’ was not his favorite word by any stretch. 

“I’ve suffered worse,” Takor said almost ruefully. “I’ve been shot at, stabbed, burned, nearly lost an eye, and broken enough bones to make another skeleton of me.”

I looked him over. “You don’t seem to have suffered that much injury.”

Takor seemed to sit up straighter in his seat. “Galra medical facilities are the best in the Universe. Available to all who serve the Empire.”

What if you don’t serve the Empire? I didn’t voice the question as I didn’t wish for him to start talking about his Emperor as if he were the Second Coming again. “Is that why one of your eyes are different? I noticed that most Galra have yellow eyes, but yours is different.” 

“Some Galra have orange eye color and there are a few that have white,” Takor explained. “I have a rare mutation that gave me heterochromia when I was born. When I say I nearly lost an eye, I meant to say that I was in an explosion that cracked my ocular cavity. Any more damage and I would have to be fitted with an artificial eye if my COs didn’t think I deserve to have a new eye grown.”

Amazed, I said, “You can regrow eyes?”

“Through medical science,” he said. “We’re not like reptiles. I meant is that our doctors would have taken my DNA to clone an eye for me and surgically implanted it. The same for organs.”

He spoke about these medical miracles as if they were as common as taking an aspirin or penicillin. Before the Galra, cloning viable organs were still in the experimental phases. It had been under the weight of controversy as some people had the view that creating organs was one step away from cloning people. A lot of Christian groups were against the practice, saying that science was treading on God’s domain. So far, the Church had stayed mum on the debate, but I believed eventually the Pope would have taken some stance.

“What about limbs?” I asked interestedly.

“Limbs too, but those take longer to develop,” Takor said shifting comfortably in his seat, enjoying the drive. “But most get the cybernetics instead. The recovery time is shorter and they can double as weapons and tools.”

With an ‘aaaumph’, Connor pressed his mouth into the fur, superseding his desire to pull. Aghast, I tugged him away, “No! I’m so sorry! He only has a couple of teeth, but he’s still teething.”

Takor glanced at the wet patch on his arm and shrugged, “No worries. Kits his age already have all their teeth and chew whatever they get their paws on. They would tear those rubbery pacifiers to bits.”

I was so engrossed in our conversation that I hadn’t realized the car had stopped. Perhaps if I had paid more attention, what happened next could have been avoided. Throughout the drive, Takor’s hand stayed on my shoulder and I became accustomed to its weight as I would my clothing. It was a solid, comforting presence and I felt a security I hadn’t felt for a long time. I was going to be alright now. Safe.

A bang on the window startled me so much I shrieked. Connor squawked, his interest in Takor completely forgotten. Takor took his hand away from me and stiffened as he looked through the passenger window. I turn my head and looked.

Devin was bent, peering at me through the glass. The angle of the sun cast his eyes into deep shadows beneath his brows, but I could feel them blazing like two hot suns into me.


	13. Chapter 13

“Devin . . .” I started. 

“Get out of the car,” Devin said through lips that barely moved.

I got out with Connor against my chest and the grocery bag over one arm. Devin reached in behind me and took the folded pushchair out. It rattled and clang from the force of his extraction. Gooseflesh broke across my arms and my heart throbbed through my temples. The words ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ came and gone through my mind. It was cliche and saying it would admit to a nonexistent guilt of wrongdoing. 

I heard the other car door opened and moaned in dread. Takor was standing outside of the groundcar, his eyes locking with Devin’s across the hood. His ears stood erect like a cat listening for prey. 

“Get back in the car, mate,” Devin said coldly. 

“Devin,” I pleaded catching at his shirt. “Please, don’t. He hasn’t done anything.”

“Are you giving me orders?” Takor replied with a flash of teeth.

A violent energy flared through that gaze, electrical and deadly. Takor seemed to bristle, not as before when he pulled Mrs. Gregor off me, but now his fur around his neck expanded in a ruff. His fists weren’t clenched like Devin’s. The fingers were spread wide with each claw extended. 

All it would take was one word between them, one motion or look, for there to be violence. Devin usually kept his temper under control, but even he had finite control. Takor would be forced to arrest him if he acted out. I was terrified and desperate to get them apart. 

I took Devin’s arm, “Please, let’s go home.”

Devin stayed as solid as an old tree, neither moving nor looking at me. Before I could beg him again, he slowly turned away from Takor. Taking the groceries from me, he took my hand and led me up the street towards our house. 

Before I could feel any relief at circumventing a terrible scene, Takor called, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bridget.”

Devin’s hand tighten on mine and his steps turned into long strides, making me take quicker steps to keep up. Connor cooed in my ear, enjoying the fast pace. 

I haven’t done anything wrong, I wanted to say. The words came as a torrent in my head and they all sounded childish. You needlessly worry about me. I can look after myself. You don’t need to be mad at me. Oh, please don’t be mad at me. 

Devin didn’t slam the door as I was expecting, nor did he start yelling. He was breathing through his nose and trembling with each breath. I had seen him angry before, especially when I took the job in the archives against his wishes, but not like this. Anger was pouring off him in waves as if his body couldn't hold it all in. I waited for a diatribe that never came. Devin rubbed the bridge of his nose, his other hand opening and closing, as he paced the room. I stood by the door holding Connor, not moving with the grocery bag still hooked on my arm. Then I slowly moved across the living room and place Connor in his walker. I took the groceries into the kitchen and began putting them away and was halfway done when Devin came and began helping me. He was no longer breathing hard, but his jaw was tight and his eyes burned. 

He was putting jars of homemade preserves and jams in a cabinet when he said, “Was that Takor? The Galra who gave you the formula after the invasion?”

A small part of me flinched when he said invasion and I brushed it aside. “Yes. He offered me the job.”

He set a jar down in the cabinet with such force it banged. I expected to see jam leaking from the glass container, but it was remained sound. Devin drew another deep breath, but his voice was calm and smooth. “When did he offer you the job?”

I closed my eyes. “That day when I told you about it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me a Galra offered you the job?” Devin said icily. “I thought you were hired by another human.”

“Because I knew you would be upset,” I replied. 

“And he works there with you?” 

I burrowed myself into the refrigerator, pushing leftovers forward while sitting the fresher food into the back. “Beside me, no, but we do see each other there.”

“And he talks to you?”

I sighed, “Yes, we talk to each other. We’re friends.”

“You’re friends?” He sounded as if he was accusing me of doing something vile. 

“Yes, we’re friends,” I said firmly, not backing down. “He’s been very good to me.”

“In what way?” Again, there was that accusation in his voice again. 

“Are you accusing me of something, Devin?” I demanded slamming the refrigerator door shut. 

“No, I’m not, but you have been keeping things from me. You’ve talked about all your coworkers. Alan, Aileen, Clark, Beverly, but you failed to mention Takor, the Galra that’s taken such a shine to you. The one I told you to stay away from.”

“He’s not like the rest of them,” I said, desperate for him to understand. “He’s done a lot for me.” 

“Like what? Stop playing games with me and tell me everything.”

“I’m not playing games,” I said affronted. “I will tell you everything. Just let me finish putting these away.”

Once I finished with the groceries, we went into the living room. I told him everything, letting all the secrets out as if I was draining an abscess. He listened and I could see the unspoken words in his eyes. I saw the surprise when I told him about Takor sparing me after I broke curfew. The outrage when he gave me a ride in the rain and offered me the job. and then suspicion when he began letting me call my father over the sea.

“Does your father know how you are able to make these calls?”

He said it in almost the exact attitude as Dad did when he asked me the same. It almost made me smile. “No, because he’d react the same as you.”

Devin snorted, “For once, something the two of us agree on. Now tell me why the hell you were sitting all sweet and dandy in his car with him today?”

Then I told him about my run-in with Mrs. Gregor and he seethed, “That bloody cow. You should have told him to arrest her on the spot. It’d give him something better to do than paw my wife.”

“It wasn’t like that,” I said. “Devin, seriously, he wasn’t trying anything with me.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and sigh, “I want you to quit your job, but I know you won’t, even if I ask.”

“We need the money,” I sighed. “We’re barely getting by as it is.”

“And you still want to talk with your father,” Devin said rubbing his face. “I don’t want to take that away from you, but dear God, Bridget, I don’t trust that fucking alien.”

“You don’t have to worry.” I was beginning to sound like a skipping recording. “He hasn’t tried anything with me.”

“That means he’s biding his time,” Devin retorted.

I laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to get across how at ease I am with Takor and how much I needed Devin to have faith in me. “He doesn’t fancy me and he’s married. I’ve known him for months and he hasn’t been anything, but polite.”

Devin said nothing and hung his head resignedly. It hurt me to see him like this especially when I believed he was overreacting to something so inconsequential. I almost preferred him to be yelling and angry. . . almost. I drew my arms around him and kissed his cheek, “Please, don’t be like this.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “Supposing since the truth is out, then perhaps your ‘friend’ won’t mind Connor and I tagging along and speaking with your dear father from now on?”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I was delighted for Dad to have a chance to speak to Connor. However, ever since he denounced our marriage, Devin had little wish to have anything to do with him. I supposed Devin’s eagerness to do so was a bid to make certain I was safe at work. “That would be great. Yes, I don’t think Takor will mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind,” Devin said wryly. “He’s your dear old chum after all.”

I pursed my lips, choosing to ignore his mockery. Perhaps if he and Takor actually met face to face, then this animosity would go away. I was wrong.

The following morning, I told Takor about Devin and Connor coming with me to speak with Dad. He winced, tilting his ears back in apology. “I’m sorry, Bridget, but they increased telecom security yesterday. I can’t arrange those calls for you for a while.”

I was so crestfallen, I could have cried. I was disappointed my father wouldn’t be able to talk with my son. In my heart, I had hoped that Devin could become friendlier with Dad. Unite in the face of adversity in the aftermath of an alien invasion. Without the calls, Dad would start worrying about me and might do something foolish, like swim from Liverpool to Ireland. I could already see him donning his swimming trunks. 

“Is there any way I can get a message to my Dad?” I pleaded. “Just a note or something to let him know I’m alright, but I just can’t call him anymore.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Takor said laying a consoling hand on my shoulder. 

When I told Devin there would be no more calls for the foreseeable future, he gave me a meaningful look. “Oh, that’s too bad.”


	14. Eva

The neighbors would be talking if they weren’t already.  Especially if they see her go into the house while the wife was away at work.  Then again, they were living in an age with no cellphones or internet to send messages.  So gossip had to be done the old way, in person or by sending a runner with a note. People could assume she was going over to leave a message or to pick something up.  But knowing how people are, they would assume she was sleeping with Devin while Bridget was away. And of course, with Bridget being the supposed victim in the matter, she would be the last to know of it.    
  
The door was unlocked and she went inside. The lingering scent of breakfast wafted from the kitchen and, very welcoming, coffee.  It was becoming scarce with prices going up per pound. Oh, she was so happy that she sent Bridget and Devin a large box of Carte Noire as a Christmas gift last year.  Devin was sitting at the table nursing from a mug between feeding spoonfuls of baby cereal to Connor.    
  
He glanced up at her before nodding to the pot of coffee on the stove.  “Help yourself.”   
  
Right away Eva knew something was wrong.  Devin had this frigid air about him, even around his own son.  “What happened?”   
  
“Get a cup and have a seat,” Devin said, wiping a resistant Connor’s mouth with a cloth.  “And I hope you don’t have any plans because I have a lot to say and there’s something we need to talk about afterwards.”   
  
The only people who can get to him like this was any talk about his father and Bridget.  And this time it was Bridget. He told her about Bridget’s new friend, Takor the Galra. When he finished, Eva sighed, refilled Devin’s cup and hers.  “Only Bridget would think she’s befriending an alien arsehole.”   
  
“Does she not see what he’s really after?”  Devin said exasperated. “Is it going to take him raping her for her to fucking realize he’s a sonuvbitch?”   
  
“Hey, hey,” Eva said firmly.  “Let me put Connor in his playpen before you rot his ears off with that language.”  Dear Lord, she was channeling her grandmother. The poor woman passed away while Eva was fifteen, but some of her mannerisms stayed with her.  When she came back, Devin was at the sink washing dishes and punishing them with a brush. She scooted in beside him, “Here, let me take care of those.”   
  
He stepped aside, letting her take over.  “I need you to talk sense into Bridget.”   
  
Eva shook her head, “If she didn’t listen to you, then she won’t hear a word I say.  She’ll know you asked me to speak with her and she’ll feel we’re ganging up on her and resent us for it.”   
  
“Why the hell is she so stubborn?”  Devin dropped into a chair, bumping the table as he went down.  It scooted a few inches on the floor almost leaving scratches in the linoleum.    
  
“She’s Irish and her father’s daughter whether she realizes it or not.  Surely, you haven’t forgotten how he didn’t show up at your wedding because he didn’t approve of you.”  Eva rinsed the dishes and set them to air dry on the dish rack. “”And thirdly, she’s naive and her father’s to blame for that too.”   
  
“What do you mean by that?”  He sounded tired and emotionally drained. He had been up all night worrying about Bridget going to work and he couldn’t find any means to stop her from going short of knocking her out and tying her up.    
  
Eva collected the mugs and set them in the sink.  “Think about it. Her father has always protected her throughout her life.  He put her in a girl's only Catholic private school to keep her away from the sins and temptations of public school.  He even tried to marry her off to a man he believed could provide for her as he had. You can’t imagine how shocked I was when she defied him to marry you.  I was sure she was going to back out of the wedding when he raged about it, but like I said before, she’s her father’s daughter.”    
  
She rinsed out the mugs and set them on the rack and continued. “The girls in the school all came from Catholic families who wanted to keep them away from anything that could tempt to the road to hell.  I was the outlier of the school and I have my mother and step-fuck to thank for that. Devin, you and I know there are bastards in the world because we both grew up with the ones in our homes.”   
  
Devin lowered his eyes, flinching at any mention of his father.  HIs scars and memories of that man still ran deep. And he was reminded of how his brother had invited that old viper into his home.  “I understand she came from a sheltered childhood, but I don’t understand what that has to do with what she’s doing now.”   
  
“Because she hasn’t been exposed to what we’ve been through.  The worst heartbreak she ever had in her life was her mother dying and that happened when she was still in nappies.  She doesn't even remember the woman,” Eva said tossing the towel away and sat down across from Devin. “She’s like a lamb that’s been kept in a barn her whole life and has never been allowed to hang out with the flock. She’s been told about there being wolves in the woods, but there’s a huge difference between being told about something and knowing something. If her dad had let her mingle within the mortal coil, she might recognize a wolf when she sees one, instead of thinking its some big dog that wants a friend.”   
  
Devin absorbed this, his fingers flexing slightly on the table.  “Do you know why she lied to me? Why she kept it all a secret?”   
  
Again, Eva sighed, “And that’s another one you can thank her father for.  I know it seems like I’m having a go at him, but he’s really a good man and he loves Bridget dearly, but he was so strict with her.  I’ve seen him take a switch to her just for rolling her eyes when he scolded her for not wearing her galoshes in the rain. If the school ever sent a note home about any misbehavior, he got the belt.  God, I don’t even want to think about what happened after that fight she had at school.”   
  
“Maybe I’m slow on the uptake, but what does her father being a tyrannical bastard have to do with her lying?”  Devin said getting impatient. He didn’t like discussing Bridget’s father. Any mentioning of the man sent a trickle of resentment through his stomach.  And he didn’t like hearing stories of Bridget being hurt.    
  
“His being so strict taught her to hide things from him and not tell him anything that might make him mad.  Even when something happens that he should know about. Once, when we were on our way home from school this guy tried to grab her and pull her into an alley.  He was some drunk wanting to scare us out of our lunch money. I knocked the holy hell out of him with my book bag and we got away. She was in hysterics, but not because the guy tried to mug her.  She was scared her dad would find out and think she brought it on herself.”   
  
“That’s ridiculous!”  Devin said incensed. “Why would she think that?”   
  
“Because her father conditioned her to do so.  He didn’t do it on purpose, but that’s what he did,” Eva said regretfully.  “If anything negative happens around her, then in her head, it must be her fault, and daddy is going to punish her for it.  So she keeps things from him. When she got her first period, she told me first because she was afraid of how he might react.  She didn’t tell you about Takor because she didn’t want to upset you like she didn’t want to upset her father when she was a kid.”   
  
“It sounds like borderline abuse.”   
  
“It’s not,” Eva said.  “Bridget had a good childhood despite losing her mother. She grew up in one of the biggest houses in the neighborhood, had the best birthday parties, and when she was sick she went to the best doctors.  Hell, he would buy her whatever she wanted with the money he made from . . . . well, he made a lot of money.”   
  
Devin raised a brow.  He noticed Eva bit back her words.  “What was that about his money?”   
  
Eva looked away, grimacing, “It’s not important.”   
  
“I know it's not important, but you made me curious.  I thought he owned a restaurant chain.”   
  
“He does . . .or he did before the Galra came . . .but he didn’t when Bridget was a kid.”  Eva was inspecting her nails as if seeking something else to be interested.    
  
“Bridget told me he was a boxer and he used his winnings to buy his first restaurant.”   
  
Eva gave him a sardonic look, “Do you really think he bought a fancy restaurant from prize winnings?  He was a low end fighter who never made it to nationals, not after messing up his hands.”   
  
“Why don’t you stop dancing around the subject and  tell me what I don’t know about Liam Moore.”   
  
“Fine,” Eva said and she told him.   
  
Devin blinked.  “Seriously?”   
  
“Yes, seriously.  Bridget doesn’t know and Liam Moore took great pains to keep her from finding out.”   
  
“How . . .how do you know?”  Devin sagged in his chair, his eyes still wide with disbelief.    
  
“I didn’t exactly hang out with the Church’s youth group like Bridget did.”   
  
“Why haven’t you told her?”   
  
Eva shook her head, “Bridget would never believe me and if she ever found out it would shatter her world.”   
  
Devin whistled, shaking his head as the shock swept over him.  “I can’t believe it and he went barmy over me not being a Catholic.  Oh, Sweet Jesus, it’s a wonder that I didn’t end up dead and buried in the woods for getting engaged to her.”   
  
***   
  
Before she left, Devin said, “I need you speed things up.”   
  
Eva pursed her lips, expecting this and knew he would not like her answer.  “I’m not going to be able to do that. It’s risky enough to get one person across the Irish Sea, but three people, one of them being a baby, is much more difficult.  Especially now with Bridget possibly being missed by one of the Galra.”   
  
“And that’s why we need to leave Ireland sooner rather than later,” Devin insisted.    
  
Eva gave his hand a reassuring pat, “I know you’re worried, but be patient.  I’ll get you guys out when the time is right..”   
  
He took his hand away from hers, his eyes flashing in anger, “Don’t patronize me.  If it wasn’t for me your people wouldn’t have a map of the downtown ruins. Let along that cache of weapons from the crushed police station.  I’ve done a lot for you at no small risk to myself and I expect your people to come through for me in return.”   
  
Eva leveled a hard stare at him. “Devin, you’re upset and stressed out over what’s happening with Bridget, but you must understand there are risks involved.  It’s not as simple as driving to the beach and sailing to England or France. There are patrols to avoid, palms to grease, and not to mention there’s a blockade around the island.”  Her voice grew louder as she spoke with vehemence. “I want Bridget and Connor away from the Galra as much as you do, but even more so, I don’t want to see any of you taken to a labor camp or lined up in front of firing squad.  When the time is right, we’ll get your family out, but only when I am certain we can get them out safely and not before.”   
  
Devin closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath and released it, resigned.  “I’m sorry. You’re right. We’ll go when the time is right. In the meantime, what do I do about Bridget’s bloke?”   
  
Relieved he had acquiescence, she took on this topic, “He may back off for a while since you know about him now.”   
  
“But what’s to stop him from hurting her?”   
  
Eva shook her head, “If he was going to so something like that, then he would have done it a long time ago.  She’ll be alright for awhile, though I do think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to convince her cut her hours short.  Perhaps if he doesn’t see her as much, he might get interested in someone else.”   
  
Devin looked as if he wanted to say something more, but only saw her to the door and bid her goodbye.  It wasn’t until the following week that she understood why Devin was so worried.    
  
It was the day when she went to the courthouse.  As long as she kept her head down and didn’t draw attention, she could slip in through a back way.  She wore her hair back from her face with a pair of black shades and her figure wrapped in a thick overcoat.  Her high heel boots clacked on the stairs as she climbed to the second story. A blonde Englishman was waiting on the steps waiting for her.    
  
“Morning, love,” Clark Marston said amiably, flashing his perfect teeth.  He gave her an appreciating stare and rose to his feet. “It’s always lovely to see you.”    
  
He would have done well as a model in France, she thought.  At least it helped their cover. Any Galra would see a beautiful Irish woman and a handsome Englishman having a romantic rendezvous.  The worst that could happen was she would be made to leave or Clark would lose his job. A small blow to the effort, but they would survive it.    
  
“Do you have anything for me?”  She asked, not taken with him handsome visage.  She had seen plenty of beautiful men in France and most of them had rot inside.  Her time in France had made her cautious of pretty smiles.    
  
Clark reached into a lining in his jacket and produced a small thumbdrive.  “Did you know when I was a lad, I wanted to grow up to be a spy? Like James Bond from the 007 films: stealing sensitive documents under the enemies’ noses and sabotaging them from within and all the while seducing a beautiful woman.”   
  
Eva grimaced, “Don’t speak like that here.  What if they overheard you?”   
  
Clark gave her a bemused smile.  “Worried about me?”   
  
She snorted, “I don’t want to lose one of the best sources of information I have and I doubt you’ll last long in interrogation.”   
  
It was a shame she had to recruit Clark, a damn reporter from London.  Alan didn’t have any backbone, Aileen wouldn’t trust her, and Beverly was too in love with her Galra lover to be much use.  And Bridget couldn’t be relied upon to carry out this task. She wasn’t strong enough to be a spy. Thus it was fell to Clark who was eager to help her, declaring it would make for an excellent material for a book.  I’ll be the next Ian Fleming, he had said with a wink.    
  
Clark sighed ruefully,  “You sure don’t have any romantic flair for a beautiful woman.”   
  
Thus, yet again, Eva was reminded how why she dislike Clark. Like most Londoners she had met, he was arrogant and knew he was young, handsome, and believed that every woman he met was attracted to him.  That Eva would rebuff him both eluded and challenged him.    
  
She took the thumb drive from him before he had a chance to use it as a bargaining chip for some affection from her.  After slipping into a hidden pocket in her coat, she said, “I need you to keep an eye on Bridget Walsh.”   
  
Clark was taken aback.  “The pretty redhead? You know her?”   
  
“She’s a friend of a friend,” Eva said.  “Watch out for her and let me know if anything happens.”   
  
“That’s easier said than done, love,” Clark said shaking his head.  “A Galra is grooming her to become his doxy. He’ll sack me if I go near her.”   
  
Eva crossed her arms, keeping her face impassive, betraying nothing for Clark to use.  “I’m quite aware of that. Just watch and sent word to me if anything happens.” She reached into another pocket inside her coat and held out an unopened pack of cigarettes.  “There’s more of these next time if you do so.”   
  
Delighted, Clark took them and smelled the top.  “Lord, I can’t remember the last time I smoked a Marlboro.”   
  
Usually she departed before her presence was noticed, but today she was compelled to check on Bridget first.  Having memorized a map of the court house, she knew to find the archives. She stayed to the lesser used halls, slipping into an empty room whenever she heard the footfalls of sentries or Galra.    
  
It was from around a corner that she spied Bridget speaking quietly with a Galra.  Flushing her back with the wall, Eva watched and listened from around a corner. She couldn’t hear what was said, but she had a clear view of them. Bridget’s face was tilted upward, her feet shifting nervously, like a kid apologizing or begging for a favor.  Same old Bridget.    
  
The Galra talking to her had to be Takor.  He matched the description of having an orange and white eyes, something she hadn’t seen in any Galra before.  He was speaking gently with Bridget, like one would to a shy animal, comforting, coaxing, and softly. Then Eva saw what it was that made Devin so worried about Bridget.  Takor watched Bridget walking away, his eyes lingering on her. It wasn’t the hungry crawl of eyes as Eva had endured from Clark earlier. There was desire there, but also affection, tenderness, and devotion.  Eva swallowed back a moan.    
  
It was one thing to have a Galra be sexually attracted to a woman.  Take her away and he’d find another one without truly missing the first one.  However, this was so much more complicated than what Eva had first perceived it to be.  Takor would not only miss Bridget, but he would search for her. He wasn’t grooming her to become a mistress as Clark had believed; he was courting her.  Devin had seen it and understood what it meant. Poor Bridget was the only one that didn’t realize that Takor didn’t want her friendship. He wanted _her_.    
  
Eva left the courthouse with a better appreciation for Devin’s concerns.   
  
“Bridget, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?”   
  
  
  


  
  



	15. Chapter 15

 

Christmas wasn’t as festive as the year before. No Christmas trees were sold nor any wreaths hung on doors. We weren’t bombarded by the constant bleating of advertisements nor pleas from charities. There were no booths offering to wrap gifts as no one had any money to spend on presents this year. Most were selling their possessions to afford food. It would be a very meager Christmas for everyone.

We managed to pay off our taxes for another month, but we had to make many sacrifices. We sold off old clothes, traded my late mother’s jewelry, and Devin did extra work between his shifts. Such as unloading crates at the market or repairing windows and fences for our neighbors. We pulled it off in the end, but I feared what would happen next month.

We learned that Mrs. Gregor’s family lost their home. I was stricken by the thought it had happened because I refused to pay Erin. When I voiced this concern, Devin took my hand and kissed it. “Bridge, don’t worry about it. I’m sure the Gregors didn’t lose their home over 15 gac. From what I hear, Mr. Gregor tends to use his bad back as an excuse to stay home and Mrs. Gregor bullying ways have lost her several jobs. They only have themselves to blame and not you.”

I still didn’t feel better. And I felt worse once I heard the rumors about me. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop and I certainly didn’t want to hear what I had heard that day. While shopping, I walked past women browsing a vegetable stand. I greeted them with a polite ‘good morning’ and stroll around a corner hoping to find the egg selling vendor. She hadn't arrived yet with her products so I headed back around the corner. The women were huddled close together, whispering with their bowed heads almost touching.

“Was she the one?”

“Yes! I’d recognize that red hair anywhere. You’d better watch out or you’ll end up like the Gregors. They’re moving to the tenement houses.”

“It must be nice to have a pet Galra to sic on any poor soul who crosses you.”

“Her pet? More like her lover.”

I went home without finishing my shopping. I was angry and regretful that I didn’t give in and throw the 15 gac into Mrs. Gregor’s face that day. It would have ended right there; my secret safe from Devin, and there wouldn’t be this rumor about Takor and me. I no longer took any pleasure in shopping and only did it when I had to. I couldn’t stand for people to point and whisper about me. I didn’t tell Devin what I overheard at the market. The last thing he needed was to have his pride hurt.

Connor found his legs as he was sporting three new teeth. He proudly walked flat-footed across the living room and followed me in the kitchen like a small shadow. And like any toddler, anything and everything within his reach was part of his domain. We had to keep the coffee table and side tables clear of anything we didn’t want him to have. He had learned to climb over the ottoman we used to block off the kitchen when we cooked. Also with this new set of skills came with a new grasp for words.

“Ma!” he called when he wanted something or was upset.

“Da!” he shouted when he wanted to play or whenever Devin came home from work.

One afternoon, we went for a walk with Connor. It was a means to tire him out so he could take a good long nap while Devin and I had some time alone. Holding onto our fingers, he walked between us with our backs stooped and our steps small to match his. Sometimes he would lose his balance and curl off the ground like a gymnast on the rings. We would give him a little swing until he lowered his legs, with happy guffaws and a bright cheerful smile.

We were pleased with his happiness and I was saddened that this was the first time we had a such an outing as a family. While I was pregnant, I had looked forward to taking him to the park to play. We even planned on signing him up for little league baseball when he was older. Now the parks were empty, the children only left home to go to school and there were no fliers about youth baseball. Nothing about family activities being handed out on street corners or pinned up on school or public bulletin boards. Last Christmas, I had looked forward to taking Connor’s picture with the Mall Santa, but the malls were closed and left derelict. A walk around the block would have to serve for family bonding.

Devin needed this outing. He hadn’t been in good spirits for the last few days ever since the call from his brother.

“How much did he take?” I had asked dreading the answer.

“300 gac,” Devin said grim look. “Everything Kenneth had saved away except for what he had in his pockets while he was out.”

“Is it possible for him to find your father and get it back?”

Devin shook his head, “The bastard was smart, or sober, enough to wait until Kenneth was gone all day to take flight. He’ll likely drink away all the money by the time he's found.”

I laid a hand on his arm, “Please, don’t feel bad, you did warn him.”

“It doesn’t give me any pleasure to happen,” he said taking my hand into his. “If we weren’t in such dire straits on our end, I’d send him some money.”

Dire straits meant we had to forego heating. The solar panels were enough to keep our house powered and water running, but we needed extra power to heat the whole house in the colder days. So we closed off rooms to save heat for the living room and kitchen only and slept under extra blankets at night. Connor screamed when I put him in winter clothes for the first time, unused to having his limbs covered. I would rather him grumpy than cold. So I contended with his tantrums while I adjusted the heat down a notch or two. Eventually, he became accustomed to wearing warm clothing and only put up a small fuss when I dressed him.

Then we had the uncomfortable conversation about what we would do if we lost the house. Neither of us wanted to think of it, but the taxes kept increasing each month. We've seen families leave their homes for the downtown tenement houses. The tenements were horrible places where as many as three families had to share one unit. The rent costed a fortune as landlords, without regulations, could spike the prices as high as they wanted. People already living in overcrowded apartments were forced to take on more roommates to afford the rent.

“Sometimes, I think we should cut our losses and move out anyway,” Devin said one evening. "If this keeps up, we're going to lose the house."

“Where would we go?” I shuddered at the thought of downtown.

“We can see about getting travel passes and go to Dublin. My mother and sister can take us in. They would love to see Connor.”

I took a few days to consider this. I didn’t wish to leave our house, but perhaps Dublin had better opportunities. I would be at the sea, close to Liverpool, closer to Dad. If they ever open up travel between Ireland and the UK, then we could be on the next boat. We just needed traveling passes which I brought up with Takor that following day.

His ears twitched in surprise. “Do you want to move?”

“No, we don’t want to, but if we’re going to lose the house anyway, we might as well do so on our terms.” The more Devin and I had discussed moving, the more sensible it became. Instead of abandoning our possessions, we could instead sell them for travel money.

“If you’re having problems paying your rent, you should have come to me,” Takor said as he stroked the curve of my shoulder, a small sign of affection between us. “Since you work for the Empire, we can suspend your payments until you can resume them. No interest or fines, just until you’re back on your feet again.”

I trusted and believed him and, oh, was he good at his word. Until the day . . . the day . . . until that day, we didn’t pay any taxes.

When I told Devin about Takor suspending taxes, instead of relief and joy, he fixed me with such a suffering look it shocked me. “Oh, he is?”

“Yes!” I said, momentarily believing he hadn’t heard me correctly. “We can keep the house without taxes for a while.”

“And Takor just pulled this godsend out of his arse, eh?”

“Devin!” I cried, completely astounded.

“What?” Devin muttered turning away to head upstairs with Connor balanced over his shoulder. Connor peered at me with bright blue eyes wide with incertitude as if he was as confused by his father’s reaction as I was. “I’m not being grateful enough? Should I drop to the ground and worship Takor the Almighty like you? Hey, instead of hanging that picture of Jesus Christ in the living room, why don’t we spray paint the Imperial symbol on the wall instead?”

I wouldn’t speak to Devin for the rest of the night or the next day. My fury with him wouldn’t abate until late next evening and even then it took the calming effect of playing with Connor to get me to so much as look in Devin’s direction without glaring. I forgave him by the time we went on our outing, but there was a brittle edge between us. Devin was allowing his resentment of Takor to smear the good fortune we had received.

Days before Christmas, and the day my life went to hell, Takor offered me another gift. It was a tall squarish bottle of the reddest liquid I had ever seen. It almost glowed crimson within the dark glass. Imprinted into the glass was a label written in sharp angular characters. The stopper was a glass ball Takor flicked to the side with the tip of a talon and it rolled back into place when the bottle was placed on a solid surface.

“It’s called Emperor’s Blood,” he said filling two glasses with the heady aromatic liquid. It was a strange smell, it carried a fragrance of fruits, but had the slight burn of tar.

The name of it made me think of the communion and I quickly dismissed it. “Why is it called that? Wouldn’t that be considered defiant? To drink the Emperor’s blood?”

“You wouldn’t say that if you ever saw our Emperor,” Takor said setting the bottle on a low table and picking up the two classes. “The Emperor leads the Empire through his strength and power. He gives himself to lead us to glory. The wine honors him by allowing us to partake in his strength.”

It sounded a lot like communion, but it also seemed like a recreational drink for the military. Back then, I didn’t realize what it meant for Takor to be sharing it with me. I was more concerned about how it seemed almost blasphemy for me to drink it. I didn’t want to offend him by refusing and, after careful consideration, I was certain God wouldn’t be offended. I wouldn’t be drinking it in the same spirit as communion.

It was surprisingly sweet, almost too sweet. It flowed over my tongue like thick syrup, making it almost difficult to swallow. I coughed so hard I had to grasp the glass with both hands to keep from spilling it. The fluid weighed heavy in my stomach and tingles spread through my limbs. My legs wobbled a bit when it became very hard to feel them.

“It has a bit of a kick the first time,” Takor said, leading me to a couch. “Take small sips until you get use to it.”

The office couch was dark vinyl, meant more for show than for comfort. It was almost too small for Takor to sit next to me, but after folding his long legs, he managed it. I took another smaller pull and found it easier to swallow this time. “If I drink too much of this, I’ll have to leave work early to sober up at home.”

“You’ll be alright,” he said, draining his glass in a long-familiar quaff. “It’s hitting you harder because you’re small.”

He was probably right, but even he had a flushed glow beneath the fur on his face after that last swallow. I took another sip and felt the liquid flow down my throat and into my stomach. It settled and seemed to evaporate and float through my body. It brought a warm lassitude and it made me feel good and relaxed.

Affectionately, I said, “Thank you again for suspending our taxes. You have no idea how relieved we are.”

Takor waved away my thanks, “I’d do anything for you, Bridget, you know that. You just have to come to me.”

My head was becoming hazy through the thick murk of the wine. I don’t know where it came from, but I asked, “How is your wife doing?”

My sudden interest surprised him; his ears almost lay flat against his hair, but then flipped up as he quickly recovered, “She’s well. She sent me a message the other day.”

“I . . . I don’t know how you can be away from her for so long,” I said thinking about the rough patch with Devin. “I would waste away if Devin was away from me for so long. I’m so happy I didn’t marry a military man. I don’t see how military wives can be without their husbands.” Actual tears were pricking my eyes as I imagined the long months without him and the constant worry if he would ever make it back home.

The wine was hitting me harder and faster than I would have thought, or Takor for that matter. The wine was fermented from the fruits of Pollux, red peach-like fruit which carried a heady aroma. During the aging process, quintessance was added into the mixed. Not much, enough to give it an ichor glow and be quickly absorbed into the body. My body was particularly sensitive to it for reasons I did not know at the time. I thought it affected me so because it was an alien brew.

My hair was stirred and claw tips reached through the tresses and brushed along the back of my neck. “Sacrifice for the Empire is a Galra’s duty. My wife married me knowing I would be away for long stretches.”

“She must really love you to wait for you.”

“I suppose . . .”

I didn’t notice the hesitation in his words so I plodded on with this line of questioning. “Is it hard for you?”

“Sometimes.”

If I had been myself, I would have patted him comfortingly. Under the influence of Emperor’s Blood, I was more open and didn’t take anything in small lengths. I flung my arms around him, quite nearly spilling the drink across his lap. He rescued the glass and set it down on a low table. I choked on the tears of sadness for Takor’s absent marriage and from an irrational fear of losing Devin. I felt the strength in his arms as he embraced me, almost pulling me onto his lap. Takor’s nose brushed my cheek as he burrowed his face into my throat. A thrumming purr vibrated throughout his chest, pulsing through me, making me relax. The purr was deeper and stronger than a domestic cat.

He cupped the back of my head and took my mouth with his. The Emperor’s Blood delayed my physical senses, numbing them to pressure of his mouth and the brush of sharp teeth over my lips. I didn’t realize I was being kissed until I tasted his tongue on mine. I twisted with a short burst of denial.

“Let me love you,” he begged, his throat strained from the concept of requesting something from a non-Galra. Licking the edge of my jaw, he bent his head to seek the pulse in my throat. With his head bowed, one of his ears swept across my cheek. I was distracted by doing the one thing I had always wanted to do, but couldn’t for fear of offending him. I rubbed his ears like I would a dog’s. They were velvety, soft, and smooth with a fine hair covering them.

A hot moisture swept along the side of my neck, jolting me from marveling at his ears. I pushed at his head, “St-stop. Please, stop.”

He stopped. I’ll give him that much. He stopped when I asked him to. He pulled away from me, his breathing hard and heavy, and stood up. His talons raked through his hair and over the ears. I wiped my mouth with a trembling hand, shame filling my heart. “You shouldn’t have done that . . .” My words were quickly followed by an accusatory voice inside my head declaring, _You shouldn’t have let him do that._

“I know,” Takor replied, his voice soft and almost sorrowful.

“I’m married. You’re married . . .”

“My wife wants a divorce,” he said without turning around. “Her family has been plaguing me to agree to their terms for the past year.”

The news stunned me. “I’m so sorry . . .” And to think I had been crying over their long separation and praising his wife for being so strong.

“Don’t be. She received a proposal from a higher rank suitor and has offered me our entire estate.”

“It must have hurt you . . .”

He gave a dry laugh, “We don’t marry for love like humans. I married her because she came from a good family with a decent bloodline. She married me because I had been promoted. When she divorces me and marries her next husband, she’ll likely leave him for another, if he doesn’t leave her first.”

The thick fog in my head was still thick, but his words were getting through to me, though I barely understood them. This was a new part of Galra culture I was far from familiar with. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know . . .”

“I don’t love my wife, I never did,” Takor turned to me, his golden eyes somber and mouth drawn into a soft line. “But I do love you. I’ve been happier with you for the last year than I have been for the last ten years with her.”

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out what was happening, what he was saying. No, this can’t be happening. His words were dripping over me like cold mud. I remembered all the warnings from Devin, all the signs I had missed, and the times Takor had come to my rescue. My stomach felt heavy, not from the wine, but from the shame of how foolish I had been. Takor was still talking, but I couldn’t hear him, I didn’t want to hear his declaration of love.

“I need to go . . .” I stood and headed for the door. I wobbled a bit, but I was determined to get out of there.

Takor was at the door, a hand on it, blocking me. For the first time in a long while, I noticed how much taller he was than me. “You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to go,” I said louder, standing my ground, refusing to take one step back. “Please, don’t stop me from leaving.”

He looked as I had insulted him. Remaining fixed at the door, he countered, “You owe me. After everything I’ve done for you . . . I kept you from being arrested, I gave you a job shuffling paper, protected you -”

“If I had known . . . your kindness had a price, then you should have told me the cost from the beginning,” I said slowly. Then another thought, a more devastating one came to me. “Did the Gregors’ really lose their home because they couldn’t pay their taxes?” He looked away, his ears swiveling forward then back. His silence was my answer. I closed my eyes as guilt washed over me. “Oh, Takor, no. You shouldn’t . . . you should not have done that for me.”

“I couldn’t allow that woman not be punished for assaulting you.”

I wrung my hands, devastated and afraid. “Her whole family is homeless . . . you shouldn’t have . . .you shouldn’t have done that. I . . .I’m going to be sick . . .”

My mouth burned from the kiss as if I had eaten something hot and painful. He reached out to touch me and I pulled away. “Don’t! Get out of the way!”

I was beginning to panic, burning away the haze in my head caused by the wine and the walls were bearing down on me. Was this a panic attack? I never had one before, but it felt as I would imagine.

“Are you afraid of me? Why!? Have I ever hurt you? Have I done anything other than help you? By the Mountains of Daizabaal, I let you speak with your father!”

“Which you took away when I wanted to involve Devin and Connor!” I burst out. “You were using my father to get close to me! To get me to trust you!” The revelations kept coming and coming, each as devastating as the first. When I spoke of moving, Takor managed to save the day again by suspending our taxes because he didn’t want me to leave him. Beverly believing I was involved with Takor because like her as I was being employed so he could court me. Now it made so much sense of why Devin had been so angry with me for being so damn blind.

“I want you to hear me out and then you can go,” he said, almost pleading with me.

“Takor,” I said with steel in my resolve, “I’m leaving. I can go through that door or climb out the window. Your choice.”

“If you leave will you come back?”

“I-I don’t know.” The answer was no, but I didn’t want him to know that yet. What would he do if he knew I had no intention of ever coming back here again? Keep me imprisoned here? He could if he wanted to and that terrified me.

“Nothing has to change . . .maybe a few things, but not everything. I’ll still give you money to support your family, but instead of the working in the archives, you’ll come to me . . .”

My jaw dropped at the brazen offer. “Are you . . . are you propositioning me!?”

“No! I enjoy your companionship so much. And yes, I would like to engage physically with you, when you’re ready.”

My insides twisted in revulsion and fury burned away my fear. “You did not just say that!” I shrieked. “You did not just say that to me!”

Then it was his turn to be outraged, “You ungrateful wretch. After everything, I have done for you and you can’t show me any gratitude?”

“Yes! I’m a selfish wretch so you shouldn’t want anything more to do with me so let me leave!”

Finally, he flung open the door. It banged against the wall and hinges rattled. “Go. You’re too upset to think straight, but this isn’t over.”

His words chilled my blood and I fled. I swung by the archives to grab my purse and didn’t wait to bid my former co-workers goodbye. Clark watched me leave intrigued while Beverly called after me. I didn’t look back as I fled the courthouse.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Instead of going straight home, as I wanted, I went to the Father’s apartment. The apartment was close to the Church above a free clinic he also serviced. Since the Galra forbid Sunday services, he held small services in the clinics’ cellar. We sat in metal folding chairs in the musty cell to hear him preached. He encouraged us to stay true to our faith despite our hardships.

“It’s easy to be Christians during times of safety and plenty,” he had preached in the cold, dank confines of the cellar. “But during our most trying times is when our faith and trust in God shine truest.”

Between services, he held confessions in his apartment. He left a small sign on the door when he was hearing confession. The doorknob held no privacy sign so I politely knocked. There was movement from the other side and the sounds of a chair scooting across the floor.

Eva opened the door. Her dark brows rose in surprise. “Bridget?”

“Eva?” What was she doing here? I wasn’t aware that Eva knew Father Brian. She hadn’t been to confession in the last ten years, much less visited a priest.

We stood staring in disbelief at each other for almost a minute before Father Brian appeared at her side. “Mrs. Walsh, are you alright?”

My eyes must have still been red from crying and I quickly wiped them away. “I need to speak with you, Father.”

“Of course. Eva, if you’ll excuse us.”

Were they on first name basis? I couldn’t help the questioning look I gave Eva as I went inside. She scooted past me, “I’ll wait for you outside. Take your time,” she said somberly. At first, I thought she was speaking to Father Brian, but her eyes were on me. Did she know about what had happened? Or did she suspect something had happened?

I would worry about it later, right now I needed contrition. I didn’t tell Father Brian all the details, just enough to confess my sin. Though, perhaps that was a sin in itself that I didn’t tell him that the man in question was a Galra. Father Brian knew him only as a man from work.

He listened and waited until I had finished before giving me a firm look, “You spurned his advances?”

“Yes, Father.” I was sitting across the table from him, my hands curled around the warm cup of tea he had made for us. I hardly touched it, save only to wet my lips as I spoke. A tissue lay wadded on the table from where I had dried my tears.

“Look into your heart. Were you tempted by him? When he kissed you, did you feel any desire for him?” He inquired looking into my eyes. “Think carefully before you answer.”

I swallowed back a fresh wave of guilt and pain and searched my feelings. It was several minutes before I spoke. “I responded physically to the kiss because my mind hadn’t caught up to what was happening to my body. I think the strong wine played a part in it too, but until that moment, my feelings for him were purely platonic. I loved him as a friend and believed his friendship was genuine until today. When I realized what his intentions were, I rebuffed him. He told me he loved me and I told him he should not have kissed me. I quit my job and I have no intention of seeing him again, though I don’t think he’s going to let it go so easily.”

 

 

“I see,” Father Brian took a short drink from his cup in thoughtful silence. “Bridget, I’ve known you since you joined my congregation and you have been a devout Catholic. I was ambivalent when you chose to marry a non-Catholic man, but he’s been a good husband and father. Your marriage, though young, is in a better state than I’ve seen in couples who have been married for decades. However, a young marriage does bring temptations and attracts others who would seek to test your fidelity through carnal selfishness or impulsive passion. What I am saying, my dear is that you have not sinned so there is no need for penance.”

I closed my eyes, grateful, but still pained. “Thank you, Father.”

“You’ll need to go home and tell your husband what had occurred,” Father Brian said kindly, but stern. “You protected your marriage and upheld your vows, but now you have to strengthen it. I’ve been a marriage counselor for almost thirty years and I have yet to see a marriage go unscathed from lies and secrets. By showing a united front, you can dissuade this man of yours from pursuing you further.”

I could only hope Father Brian would be right about Takor giving up. We prayed to strengthen my resolve and asking God to bless my marriage, then Father Brian gave me communion. I remembered the Emperor’s Blood as I sipped the small cup of wine. I thank the Father for his guidance and time and left his apartment.

Eva was sitting on the stairs smoking a cigarette waiting for me. Her hair was held away from her face with a white headband that stood in stark contrast to her dark head. A part of shades perched just above her eyes and she looked as if she hadn’t had much sleep last night. She motioned for me to sit next to her and I did, folding my hands around my knees.

“What did the sonuvbitch do?” She asked without preamble.

Fresh tears sprung forward and I wished I had a tissue again. I settled for my sweater sleeve instead. “He tried to get me drunk and . . . he kissed me.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I sniffed.

Eva took a long drag of her cigarette and expelled the smoke in a long stream through her lips. “Devin won’t be mad at you. He’s known what an arse that kat was.”

“And that’s the problem. He warned me, told me from the beginning to stay away from Takor and I didn’t listen . . .”

“He’s not going to rub it in your face.”

“I’d deserve if he did,” I said, stricken. “Why am I such a fool?”

“You’re not a fool. Just a good person who was willing to believe there’s good in everyone, even giant purple arseholes.” Eva grounded out the cigarette on the bottom of her shoe and tucked the stick back into the packet for later. “Are you going to keep working for him?”

I shook my head. “I quit. So now we only have Devin’s income to rely on until I get another job. I suppose we can save on daycare funds until then.”

“You’re not going to find a job that pays as well, though.” Eva slipped the packet into her purse.

I hugged my knees, “I know. We’re going to lose the house. That is if Takor isn’t having us kicked out of it right now.”

“No, he won’t, at least not yet,” Eva said standing and holding out a hand to help me up. “I’ll walk you home unless you want to get a cup of coffee first.”

“I think I rather go home now,” I accepted her hand and stood. “I need to see Devin.”

Eva walked with me. She stayed away from the topic of Takor and reminisce about our school days together. We spoke about the teachers we liked and the ones we hated. She remembered all her antics and hijinks and teased me about when I got into a terrible fight with another student.

“I was so proud of you that day,” Eva commended. “That Lori McHiggins had been begging for a beating. I regret it wasn’t me that done it.”

I flushed at the memory, “I was in so much trouble. I got paddled, had detention for two weeks, did penance, said ten Hail Marys, then I had to write a five-page essay about why violence is sinful, and that was before I got home and had to deal with Dad! All I heard for weeks was how disappointed everyone was in me.”

“They were,” Eva said, laying a hand on my shoulder, “or the image they had of you. You were the good girl in school. You wouldn’t have been in so much trouble if they had only taken a moment to realize what was it that made you mad enough to deck Lori.”

My house was in view and we stopped together on the street. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Eva glanced between me and the house, “Do you want me to go in with you?”

“No, I should do this myself,” I told her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Thank you.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning to check on you,” Eva said, squeezing my hand back. “Devin loves you and he won’t be mad. He’s going to be more relieved than anything that you’re not hurt.”

I went inside. I thought my tears were gone until I saw Devin. He was cleaning up after lunch and his eyes widen when he saw me home so early. His face went from pleasant surprise to sudden concern than to worried comprehension. “What happened?”

***

The next hour was spent at the table where I told him everything that had transpired in the courthouse. It was like confession with Father Brian, but different, deeper this time. I wasn’t confessing a sin to God, but to the one I had hurt the most with my foolishness. Despite Eva’s reassurance that Devin would not get angry, I expected some sort of retribution from him. But he did not say nor do anything, but listened to me, his face clouded with worry. When I had finished, he took my hands in his and look into my eyes.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No."

“You can tell me if he did.”

Understanding what he was referring to, I quickly said, “Takor didn’t rape me. I promise the kiss is as far as it went.”

He studied my face for several long moments before he nodded, “I believe you,” he kissed my forehead and then my mouth. “If he did it wouldn’t change how I feel about you, alright? I’d just have to kill the bastard.”

“No!” I grasped Devin’s arms tight, my fingertips digging into his sleeves. “Please, don’t do anything to defend my honor. They’ll arrest you or kill you on the spot!”

“Then I’ll die knowing he’ll never put his hands on you again,” he told me,

Before I could tell him not to do anything suicidal for my sake, the phone rang. What timing, Devin gets called away to a shift while this was going on. It rang three times and he didn’t pick it up.

“You should get that,” I said.

He didn’t take his eyes off mine, “No, this is more important.”

“Devin, I just quit my job. We’ll need every gac we can get.”

With a resigned sigh, he reached over and picked up the phone.

“Yes?” He listened and then his face turned murderous. “She’s not here. She hasn’t made it home yet.”

I watch and listened with bated breath. Takor? Was that him on the line?

“Yes, I’ll do that,” Devin replied and then hung up, almost adding another crack in the plastic shell. “Lying bastard! Claims he wants to discuss your new work schedule as if you hadn’t quit.”

“I’m not going back there,” I said adamantly. “He said that because he just wants to talk to me.”

“Well, I know how to take care of that.” Devin took the phone off the cradle and set it down on the table. “He can listen to a busy signal if he wants to call here.”

“Devin, you can’t do that.” I grasped his arm, almost overwhelmed by guilt for bringing this down upon us. “What if work actually calls?”

“We’ll leave the phone off the hook for tonight and we’ll deal with it tomorrow. I’ll answer the phone from now on and you’ll let it ring when I’m not here.”

“Yeah, but . . .what if he . . .comes here?”

“The gun’s upstairs.”

I stared at him, in complete puzzlement until it hit me. It was the gun Eva had given us before the invasion. The same one we held onto while we fled the Galra and Devin had thrown into the field when we were accosted on the road. I couldn’t remember whether he had collected it from the field or not. Apparently, he did and had kept it despite the Galra forbade humans from owning firearms. If it was discovered we had a gun in our home, we could get sent to the labor camps.

I couldn’t speak for several moments as I struggle to find words. Finally, I managed, “Devin, you have to get rid of it.”

“No, I don’t.” He glared at the phone as if he wished to shoot it. “If anyone ever comes to hurt you or Connor then I want to be able to protect you both.”

We argued about the gun for the next hour. I begged and pleaded for him to throw the gun away, but he stoutly refused. Again and again, we went over our arguments. Me: If the Galra found the gun in our possession, we would be arrested. Him: It was for our protection.

That damn gun. If only he had thrown it out when I asked him. Then maybe . . .

***

Eva came over the next morning shortly after the curfew. She came in looking great as usual with hairbrush straight, makeup applied perfectly, and clothes unwrinkled and fitting. While she looked fabulous enough to model her clothing, we looked like hell warmed over. We were still tired from staying up late talking and arguing about the gun. I haven't budged from my stance on not wanting it in our house while Devin refused to give it up.

We offered her coffee and a place at the breakfast table. She sat beside Connor’s high chair and fed him oatmeal. “I’m glad you two are doing alright after yesterday.”

Devin sat across the table nursing from his own cup. “I think we came off it better than we could have hoped.”

Eva pursed her lips and fed Connor a spoonful. The toddler ate while happily drumming a favorite plastic dinosaur on the tray. He had become quite taken with a T-Rex dinosaur, granting it the name, Wey, who received the honor of being present during mealtime. I had to be watchful as Connor had the tendency to share food with Wey.

“What do you plan to do?” Eva asked pensively.

I sat down next to Devin and took his hand. After arguing about the gun, we spent a great deal talking about what we would do next. “It’s pretty much a given we’re going to lose the house. I doubt Takor is going to be so helpful after yesterday and we can’t afford the taxes even if I got another job.”

“So Bridget is going to stay home and pack while I continue working,” Devin said. “We can save on daycare and we’ll be ready for when they kick us out.”

What he didn’t say was he wanted me to stay out of sight. Maybe Devin had some hopes that out sight, out of mind would work with Takor. As perfect as that would be, I doubted it. Also, a small part of me was fearful of what life would be like without a friendly Galra in our corner. How many ‘favors’ had he done for me that we knew nothing about?

Eva gave us a considering gaze, “I have plenty of room in my apartment. There’s an extra bedroom and it is closer to the market.”

I knew Eva would offer to share her apartment with us and I looked expectantly at Devin. He rolled his jaw and nodded, “We would like to move to Dublin, but there’s a chance we’ll be denied travel passes. Until we can get those passes, we’ll stay with you in the meantime.”

I suspected Devin caved about moving in with Eva because I was so upset about the gun. Devin was always willing to help someone in need, but accepting help from others wounded his pride. In this case, his pride would only harm us. It was either Eva’s apartment or the tenements, so the choice was obvious.

Connor began dunking Wey’s head into the oatmeal making grumbling yum-yum. I leaped up, “Connor, no!” When food was plentiful, I would have thought it adorable, but now it's wasteful play. He whined when I took Wey and the oatmeal away. “This is your food, not Wey’s. Now I have to give him a bath.”

I set the oatmeal on the table out of Connor’s reach and rinsed Wey off in the sink. Connor’s whines became low cries which would soon lead to an outright meltdown. I scooped him up and noticed his soiled diaper. “C’mon, let’s get you a clean nappy.”

 

**Eva**

Bridget took a wailing Connor upstairs. Eva waited until she was well away before leaning in towards Devin, “Did you tell her?”

“No,” he said softly. “I told her about the gun and she went mental. She’ll go spare if she finds out what we’ve been up to.” He glanced at the doorway where his wife and son had departed and whispered, “This changes things, doesn’t it?”

Eva leaned back in her chair, her coffee mug tucked between her hands, “I’ll see what I can do to speed things along, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

His face hardened into a scowl and his blue eyes became sharp as glass. “We can’t stay in Limerick. How much longer before Takor tries to steal her away?”

“I think we have some time before that happens if it happens at all. He might lose interest and forget about her in favor of a more receptive woman.”

Devin growled. “He called her last night. I don’t think he’s going to lose interest. What the fuck am I supposed to do if he drags her onto a spaceship and flies away?”

Eva understood where Devin was coming from and tried to placate him. “Despite what you might think, he can’t just take her away. Though you’re non-Galra, you took the oath and became citizens. The worst he can do is have your house taken away which we’re already prepared for.”

Her words were smooth and calm, though she shared the same fears as Devin. The citizenship only provided a thin shell of protection. A Galra didn’t have to go to much trouble to make a human’s life hell even if the human was mindful of the laws.

Eva reached across the table and touched Devin’s wrist to gain his full attention. “I know you’re angry and worried about Bridget, but I’m begging you not to do anything stupid. He’ll see you as an obstacle he can easily be rid of if you break any laws.”

“I’m not stupid, Eva,” he drew back affronted. “I know that bastard has it in for me. I’ll keep my head down, but you have to work on getting us out of Limerick. If you can’t smuggle us out of Ireland, then we’ll settle for Dublin or Galway.”

“Not Galway.” She said tersely, “Most of the population was turned into slave labor to build their naval port. Thankfully, they’re using Limerick as a base for their soldiers and they don’t shite where they sleep.”

Devin sucked in a deep breath before daring to ask, “Is it that bad?”

“Just as bad and worse in others places,” Eva licked her lips, longing for a cigarette. “And it's only going to get worse as more of those purple fucks come here. Do you think they went through all the trouble of invading so humanity can become citizens of the Empire? They’re already mining the planet for resources and us humans make pretty good slave labor. This whole citizenship thing is a farce to keep us compliant for whatever is coming next. Pretty soon, there isn’t going to be any room for humans on Earth and we’ll be shipped off as free labor to other planets.”

Devin blanched, glancing at the doorway where his wife and son had gone and looked back at Eva. “How do you know?”

Eva’s humorless laugh was more like a sicken cough. “Because it’s happening already. A huge shipment of prisoners from Australia left Earth a week ago. It won’t be long before the rest of us are crowded onto cargo ships and taken to only God knows where in space.”

Devin lowered a hand, signaling her to lower her voice. “I believe you and that’s all the more reason why I want to get Bridget and Connor somewhere safe. We’ll swim across the sea if we have to.”

Eva checked the time and stood, “I have to go. Just keep Bridget inside. I’ll try to come over more often while you’re gone so she’s not alone. And don’t let her answer the phone, he might see as her talking with him as . . . encouraging.”

Devin saw her to the door. “I know . . . just . . .please, hurry.”

Before leaving, Eva whispered, “If anything happens, go to Father Brian. He’s a ‘friend’. He can hide you and keep you safe until we figure something out.”

Devin nodded. “Alright.”

Eva remained standing in the door. An ominous feeling crept over her like ice cold hands touching her back. “Devin, I’m serious, don’t do anything stupid. I can’t help you if you get arrested and you can’t protect Bridget from a labor camp.”

Annoyance flitted across Devin’s face, “Look, I’m not some dumb hothead so stop treating me like one. I won’t do anything that’ll risk my family. Got it?”

Eva nodded, “Understood. Take care of them.”

She left, but an overbearing ominous cloud stayed with her.


	17. Chapter 17

For three days we had relative peace. Twice Devin went to work and whenever he was gone the phone rang. I ignored it until it became so incessant that I took it off the hook. I glanced out the window as I did after the invasion when I feared Galra would beat down the doors to kills us. The only one of us happy at my being home was Connor who found delight in having Mummy to himself. He discovered a new game of rolling the ball between us and cackling in glee when Mummy had to fetch the wayward ball. Wey joined in on the fun when I thumbed the ball back to Connor with the plastic dinosaur.

Eva visited often. She said it was to spend time with us, but I believed it was to watch out for me. The day we received the visitor, I approached Eva about something I had been considering for a while.

“Will you be Connor’s Godmother?” I asked broaching the topic while she was on the floor playing with him.

Eva stopped in mid growl, holding Wey in the air where he had been roaring at an amused Connor. She stared incredulously at me, “Seriously?”

“Well, yes, I spoke to Father Brian about it. He was hesitant at first, but he said it would be alright if you went to confession.” I said from the kitchen where I was making tea. We still had some tea left over as we used it sparingly as it had become so expensive in the market.

“Oh God, I’d be in there for a whole week,” Eva groaned, handing Wey to Connor and rising to her stocking feet. She came into the room to stand by me as I finished the tea. “You don’t want me as a Godmother for Connor. He’d be better off raised by wolves.”

“You’re the only one I trust to look after him if anything happens to us,” I said settling the piping hot teapot on the counter. “My father’s in Liverpool and Devin’s family in Dublin and there’s no telling if we’ll ever see them again. I spoke to Devin about it and he agrees that Connor will be safe with you if it ever comes to that.”

Eva wouldn’t say anything for a long time. Her lips were pursed and she blinked several times, even wiping away a tear. “Alright, I’ll go to confession tomorrow. I’ll see you sometime next week.”

Though I knew she would agree to it, I was still relieved to hear her say it. And my words resounded true. Eva was the only we knew in the city that would willingly take Connor in as her own. Everyone was too busy looking out for their own families and had no desire to take in another mouth to feed. Eva committing to being Connor’s Godmother was another burden off our shoulders.

There was a sudden knock at the door that startled us. Eva pressed a finger to her lips and moved silently to the window. She brushed a curtain side and looked out, then she relaxed, letting out a long sigh. Her shoulders sagged as the tension left them, “It’s Beverly.”

Eva knew Beverly? How? I set these questions aside for another time and answered the door. Beverly’s swollen belly stretched the wool of her cardigan. She wasn’t dressed up as before when I first met her; her hair was tied back in a loose tail and she wore little makeup. Her hands stayed on her stomach as she came inside. Not in the way that indicates she was maintaining her balance, but to bring our attention to it. She waddled with a prideful swing in her step.

I ushered her to a chair and offered her some tea, but she shook her head, “No, just water will be fine. Caffeine will get this little guy excited and he’ll wiggle and kick me for the next hour. I came by to see when you’re coming back to work.”

I took a seat on the settee across from her and set a glass of water on the coffee table. Did Takor send her because I wouldn’t answer his calls? “I’m not going back to work."

“Oh, no!” Beverly exclaimed regretfully. “We all miss you!”

Before my blinders were removed, I would have believed that. Since that day, I had thought back over the months and realized a few things. Aileen and Alan had treated me like some unwanted child they kept out of their way by giving me useless tasks. Clark would wink and smile at me, but kept his distance to not anger Takor. And Beverly thought I would become like her by leaving my husband for a Galra. They all knew why I had been hired and I wondered what gossip they had shared when I couldn’t hear.

“I know, but I missed my baby,” I said indicating Connor who was milling about with Wey in hand. He had paid little interest in Beverly other than a cursory stare and became absorbed in playing. My lie was partially true, but Beverly didn’t need to know the details of why I refuse to go back. In fact, I daresay, I suspected she already knew. “He’s growing up so fast and I’m missing it while I’m at work so I decided to stay home with him. It saves on daycare and I don’t have to worry about getting a terrible babysitter again.”

Beverly fanned her face with a hand and clutched her belly, “Takor really misses you.”

Eva snorted from where she stood by the window, likely keeping an eye out for any more ‘visitors’ and gave the pregnant woman a suspicious glare. I hoped Beverly hadn’t noticed. “That’s too bad.”

“He’s been worried about you,” she dogged, “He’s asked me to see if you were alright.”

Again, Eva made a face at Beverly, clearly disliking the woman’s presence. What can I tell this woman to get her to let go of this torrid subject? “We may have to move so we’ve been so busy packing.”

“Oh no!” Beverly was mortified. “I thought Takor suspended the taxes.”

I shrugged, “It didn’t work out. It’s alright, we already made plans for moving to Dublin if we can get travel passes.”

“But you don’t have to move out of this beautiful house. Takor can help you if you let him.” Her words were light and friendly, but they carried so much meaning that I felt a chill roll down my spine. Eva was staring furiously at her.

“No, it’s fine,” I said politely, determine to stay pleasant through this visit. “Please, don’t worry about us.”

“Takor wants to talk to you. You should go see him,” Beverly persisted.

“I thank you for your concern,” I kept my voice as pleasant as possible. “Please, tell Takor I’m grateful for everything he has done for me and tell the others I enjoyed our time together,” I said with as much finality as I could while keeping my voice kind.

Beverly stared at me as if I had done something obscene. “I don’t think you realize what you are doing.”

My back straightened and I clasped my hands tightly together. Did Beverly know what had happened in his office? When she smiled at me that morning, was it a knowing smirk? “I’m fully aware of my actions and that’s my business.”

Then her blue eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “You think you’re better than me. With your holier than thou attitude. Then you act all offended when you find out about my baby and then you turn your nose up at Takor, an actual officer! You have no idea what you are passing up.”

Then it was my turn to become offended. I had tried to stay polite during her visit, but she took the first shot. Fury boiled beneath my skin and I leaned forward and let loose a torrent of viciousness. “I’m a happily married woman who loves her husband very much. You may not have respected the marriage vows you made with your husband, but I hold mine as sacred as the day of my wedding.” Anger throbbed through my temples and it took hold of my tongue and more words flowed from my lips. “And even if I wasn’t married, if I was single, I still wouldn’t want Takor! He’s a manipulative git who sends a pregnant woman to emotional blackmail me back into his clutches. And let me tell you one more thing, Beverly, just because you rolled over and gave it up to the alien invaders, and yes, I said invaders, doesn’t mean your pregnant belly is a badge of honor for any woman who has lost enough of her self-worth to have sex with giant purple aliens!”

Beverly’s face went white and then, starting from her neck and upward, went red. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple and her eyes nearly glowed from inner rage. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. Finally, she managed to ground out, “I never liked you. I only befriended you because Takor asked me to.”

“That should hurt my feelings, but oddly enough, I’m not surprised,” I said stiffly. “It’s time for you to leave.”

Beverly opened her mouth to speak again, but Eva was beside her taking her by the arm and pulling her to stand. She hefted herself up, clutching her belly and then she glared at Eva. “Who are you?”

Eva didn’t falter. “The woman that’s going to show that you can get knocked down too if you open your fat mouth again. Now get the hell outta here.”

I was tearing up by the time Eva came back from throwing Beverly out. She admonished me. “Don’t you dare let that sow make you cry. She’s not worth it. She’s jealous because you attracted an officer without trying and her kat is just a grunt.”

“I’m not crying because of her!” I said louder than I intended. “I’m just so mad! Damn him! He’s been manipulating me from the start! No wonder Aileen didn’t like us. We were kept pets, paid outrageously to shuffle papers while the others did all the real work.”

Despite Eva’s comforting words, my anger would not abate. I was so furious I couldn’t be around Connor who picked up on my mood and became fussy when Eva took him upstairs for a nap. The last time I had become so upset was when Dad outright refused to accept my marriage to Devin.

No, this was worse. This was a betrayal that had cut to the bone. Never before had I been outright tricked by someone and manipulated so. People have lied to me or tried to pull the wool over my eyes, but not from someone I had considered dear to me, a friend, a guardian. The humiliation burned as if I had walked through fire and I was terrified of what it could have cost me. If Devin had been any less of a man, he could have accused me of cheating on him or left me.

All these thoughts swirl through my head like water down a drain filling my stomach until I felt sick from them. It was like kinetic energy was coursing through my bones, making me want to run and scream. I wanted to shout until my voice gave out and hit someone until my hands broke. When the phone rang, I answered it without second thought or hesitation.

“Hello?” My ears were buzzing as if I could hear the blood rushing through them.

“Bridget?” It was Takor, no surprise there. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

I swallowed, my hand squeezed the receiver. “You have to stop calling me.”

“Then come back to work,” he said portentously. “Did Beverly speak with you?”

I clenched my jaw for a second before I answered, “Her visit was very enlightening.”

He must have read the underlying fury in my voice and said no more about her. Maybe he sensed his little ploy backfired. “When are you coming back to work?”

I bristled at the implication that the matter of whether I was going back or not was no longer up for debate. “I told Beverly I wasn’t coming back.”

Eva was coming down the stairs, tying her hair back in a tail. She froze when she spotted me with the phone. She mouthed the words, What are you doing? I turned away, giving her my back to fight my own battle.

Takor was quiet at first, likely planning his next move. “You said you could barely afford to keep your house.”

He didn’t bring up the suspension of taxes. Was he being crafty by hinting that if I didn’t return that he would cancel the suspension or was I reading too much into it? Whereas I was too naive before, perhaps I was being too suspicious now, but I didn’t dare be anything less.

“We’ll manage,” I said, deciding not to bring up the travel passes.

Eva, having realized to whom I was speaking with was making frantic hanging up motions and kept mouthing, _Stop talking to him!_ I waved her away and stepped back in case she got the idea of forcibly taking the phone from me. I had to handle this myself.

“You don’t have to ‘manage’,” he said.

“I don’t see any other way about it,” I stated firmly. If he wanted to skate around the truth, then so can I.

Again, silence hummed in my ear while Eva begged me to hang up in the other. I waited and as I was suspecting he had hung up, he said, “Do you still want travel passes?”

I was so surprised, I dumbly answered, “Yes.”

“Meet with me tonight outside of the courthouse and I’ll give them to you,” he said.

I couldn’t speak as I didn’t trust myself to. I should say no and hang up, but if we had those passes we could go to Dublin. Instead of living on an income of just two people we would have the support of others. It wouldn’t be luxurious, but it would be much more comfortable.

“You have my word that I won’t do anything to harm or upset you. I just want to talk face to face, to clear away any misunderstandings between us. If you still want the passes after we talk, I’ll give them to you with no conditions attached.”

What he didn’t say, and I knew it was there lurking between us like an ominous shadow, was that meeting him in person would be the only way to get the passes. If we requested them through the appropriate channels, we would be denied. Now there was no question of that.

“What about the curfew?”

“It won’t take long. You’ll be back before curfew.”

I felt as if I was balancing on a knife’s edge. “I . . .I don’t know.”

“I’ll have the passes with me and I’ll wait for you at my car until curfew.”

He hung up before I could give him my answer. Well, to be honest, I didn’t have an answer as I didn’t know what to do.

***

“You are not going,” Eva said adamantly. “You shouldn’t have picked up the phone!”

“I know.” I was trying to think, trying to decide if I should go or not. Having the passes would solve so many of our problems and Devin had been longing to be with his family. And I would be closer to Dad.

Eva wasn’t willing to leave me alone. She was pacing back and forth across the kitchen tile. Her hands kept opening and closing as if she was struggling to keep them from throttling me. “You’re an idiot if you go, you know that right.”

“If he wanted to hurt me,” I said calmly, “Then he would have done it in his office,” I noted to myself that if he wanted to make my life hell, then he could report me for breaking curfew earlier this year or use it to blackmail me into doing whatever he wanted. Did that meant he had a sense of honor or would it get him in trouble for not doing so earlier? It was hard to say which. “It would be in the parking lot and I won’t go anywhere with him. Not inside the courthouse or his car. If he makes any demands I don’t like, I’ll leave.”

“Dear God, Bridget, you don’t know these aliens like I do.” Her hair, usually brush straight was almost afloat, like a cat bushing out its tail in fear. “It’s never half-measures with them. It’s all or nothing, Vrepit Sa, victory or death,” she came to the kitchen table where I was sitting and leaned over me. “He’s not going to just let you go with a pat on the shoulder and wish you a Merry Christmas. He’s going to want something more from you that you aren’t willing to give him. Then he’s going to turn meaner than a snake being stepped on.”

I loved Eva dearly, she was the sister I was never gifted by my parents, but given to me by God. Yet, at that moment, I loathed her. I hated her overprotectiveness, her drive to direct my life, and overshadow me. I said steelily, “Please, give me some credit. I’ve been around him a lot longer than you. Yes, he had fooled me, but I feel that I know him enough to believe he’ll keep his word.”

“There you go!” She snapped, wagging a finger in my face. “You’re defending him again. You’re trying to put things back to what they were before so he can stay your big purple friend.”

“No, I’m not!” I snapped. “But if we’re going to get those passes, then this is the only way.”

“Oh! So he’s blackmailing you into seeing him again,” she cried and clawed the air with her nails as if she was struggling to keep from tearing her hair out. “He’s manipulating you again. You said you know him more than me, then trust me on this, I know men better than you and this is a classic baiting game. You go and, believe you me, he’ll try to get you somewhere alone if he doesn’t just outright kidnap you.”

“Then fine, you come with me then!” I said standing. “You can stand watch and make sure nothing happens.”

“I have a better idea,” a cold voice said from the edge of the kitchen.

Eva and I wheeled around to see Devin, dirty, tired, and furious, standing there dirty boots in hand, glaring at us. Eva’s face went pale and I opened my mouth to speak, but all words failed me. How much did he hear? How long had he been standing there? When did he get in? In our arguing, we had failed to hear him come inside.

“I’ll go and get the passes,” Devin said coldly. “Alone.”

Eva reacted before I did. “We talked about this . . .”

“No! You can’t!” I cried.

Devin was already wheeling around and stomping to the door. Both Eva and I went after him and caught up to him just as he was sitting on the front steps and pulling on his boots. I could feel the fury radiating off him like heat from a furnace. I hesitated at the door, too afraid to say anything, and let Eva do the talking.

“Devin, you’re not in your right mind,” she pleaded. “You’re going to get yourself arrested or worse. Come inside and we can talk about this.”

“Was Bridget going to talk to me before she goes out and about with her Galra?” He snapped, making me flinch. “Or was she hoping I won’t be home in time or sneak out if I was.”

“I’m right here,” I said sourly, feeling childish and angry. “Eva was going to come with me.”

“I do not want you near him!” Devin hollered so loudly, I feared the neighbors could hear him. “Ever! If I have to kill him to keep him away from you, then by God, I’ll crush his head in with a brick! They may arrest me or kill me, but I’ll go in peace knowing he’ll never touch my wife again!”

With that said, he tore off down the walkway, taking each step hard enough to crack the pavement. He wouldn’t turn around even as we called after him. I stared helplessly, thinking that I should run out after him, throw my arms around his waist and either stop him or be dragged along the street behind him.

Eva started down the stairs, “Stay here, I’ll bring him back.”

Then she started after him, running in her stockings, ruining them. I watched after her, longing to follow, but I closed the door, leaning against it, and cursed loud and hard. Yet again, I had brought misery and danger to my family. I heard Connor wailing from upstairs, awake from his nap and wanting out of his crib. I jogged up the stairs hoping I would be in time to see Eva and Devin from out the bedroom window that looked out over the yard.

Ignoring Connor (later I would call myself a bad mother) I looked through the curtain praying I would see them both coming back. But I only saw a fretful Eva walking back up the drive, her stockings in tatters. I swallowed back my alarm as I took Connor out of his crib, checked his nappy, and then changed him. My heart thrummed in my ears as I forced myself to smile at Connor who was fussy and wriggled throughout the changing.

I took him downstairs, patting his back, and carried Wey down with him. Eva was sitting on the couch and pulling off her stockings which she was studying ruefully. When she noticed me, she said, “He’s gone. I couldn’t bring him back.”

“What do we do?” I asked, my mouth dry and throat so tight it was hard to breathe.

“Pray.”

***

The sun went down and the curfew started and still no Devin. This was worse than in the early days of the invasion when Devin would go out to loot the market. He wasn’t actively seeking the Galra back then, steering clear of them when he scavenged. I called the number Takor gave me a long time ago and there was no answer. Did Devin do something to him? Was he being taken to the protectorate or straight to a labor camp? Panic nipped at my heels as I busied myself between cleaning, caring for Connor, and packing.

There was no question of whether she would spend the night or not as she was already making herself a bed on the couch. Like me, she kept looking through the window. More than once, I saw her staring at me from the corner of my eye. Her mouth was open as if she wanted to tell me something, but she would only close it and go back to looking for Devin.

Soon, it became too dark to see anything so we listened. I fed Connor, bathed him, and put him to bed with Wey, then I stayed up with Eva fretting and worrying.

“He’s dead,” I whispered. “He’s dead and I killed him.”

“We don’t know that,” Eva whispered sharply. “Here, have a drink of whiskey, it’ll calm your nerves. Pray if it’ll make you feel better.”

I couldn’t stand the whiskey she pushed into my hands which trembled so much I almost sloshed it on me. Praying helped, but God was there for both good and bad. Sometimes He answered yes to prayers, but no to others and gave comfort during those times. But I couldn’t bear to be without Devin and I told Him so. I love God, but Devin was my earthly partner and though I have only known him for a few years, I could not imagine my life without him.

It was well past 11:00 when Eva told me to go to bed.

“You need to sleep,” she told me, touching my shoulder. “You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not going to sleep,” I said stubbornly, even as she took me by the arm and led me upstairs. “I’m going to lie awake and worry about him.”

“Staying up and worrying isn’t going to change what may come tomorrow,” she said kindly. I could see the fatigue in her eyes and how she trying to stay calm for my sake. “I promise, if - when he comes back, I’ll wake you up right away.”

I swallowed nervously, “Or if you hear any news at all. Good or bad.”

She promised me, but I didn’t believe her. She would first decide how best to break it to me before she woke me. The next twenty minutes, I felt like I wasn’t conscious of my body like it was working on auto-pilot. I showered, dressed, drank the chamomile tea Eva made and crawled into bed. Again, I said a long prayer for Devin to be delivered home safely. I tossed and turned, my mind racing with where Devin could be, and the morose thoughts of what I would do without him.

How would we survive without Devin’s income? No one would hire me, not after the ugly rumors about Takor and me. Eva could help us, I supposed, but we would both be a burden on her. She could take Connor in and I could try to survive on my own. The only place I could work would be the archives and that was only if Takor would take me back, or . . .darkly, I thought, he wouldn’t want me in the archives any longer.

My dark imaginings lured me into a fitful sleep and many times I would wake and reach for Devin’s warm body. Upon finding it vacant, I would realize what had happened and worry all over again.

In a dream, I heard the door open and a figure walked into the bedroom. It was a man and he moved with care as if he were in pain. He was dirty, wearing Devin’s clothes, and one side of his face was horribly bruised with an eye nearly swollen shut. Then I realized, the man _was_ Devin. And as he drew closer, I could smell the sweat and the coppery scent of blood. I sat up so fast it made me dizzy and I was clambering out of bed, nearly falling face first on the floor.

“Devin!” I shrieked, seeing the blood staining the front of his shirt. “What happened? Where did you go!?”

He gave me a lopsided smile and winced when it hurt the swollen side of his face. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two slips of plastic that gleamed in the light from the hall. They bore the Empire’s insignia with archaic Galra script printed on the sides.

They were the travel passes.


	18. Takor 2

In the Academy, there was a tactics instructor who taught the importance of biding your time and striking at the right moment.

“Patience can only be taught through age and experience,” the old veteran lectured at the center of the classroom. The desks had been ringed around the dias where he stood in long rows. Students were bent over terminals typing notes with sharp clicks of claw tips on glass keys. “A Commander will wait for movements, even deca-phoebs for the right moment to strike. Too soon, you’ll lose the advantage, too late, the enemy will have the advantage.”

Well, the right moment came and went and he had the Emperor’s Blood to blame. He had misjudged the situation and acted too soon and she all but ran screaming from the room. Did being drunk make him he misread her signals? The times she let him touch her, smiled at him, and those quiet moments when they chatted together had led him to believe the time was right.

He needed to talk to her, to get her alone and make her understand what she was to him, how she affected him. If he couldn’t make her understand, then he could convince her to resume work so he can at least have her near him each day. Turn back the hands of the clock and resume their friendship. Two travel passes were sitting on the desk before him. They would give him the chance to convince her to stay. He had fouled things up with her, letting his anger and pride take over and he said things that only frighten her away.

His comlink chimed and a sentry’s voice, smooth and masculine told him Warrant Officer Tayne requested an audience.

“Shite,” he whispered, a curse he had picked up from the inhabitants. “Show him to my office.”

He checked his appearance; uniform was straight and clean and his fur had been brushed earlier. Popping a mint into his mouth, he made certain all sensitive data was out of sight and scooped the passes into a drawer. He was standing at attention when the Warrant Officer entered the office. He was a tall Galra with low rounded features that gave him a wide mouth with sharp tusks over his lower lip. His right ear was torn and hung limply down the side of his head. Takor wondered why the Warrant Officer didn’t have the ear removed and replaced with an artificial flap or had it regrown. He supposed older officers prefer to wear their scars and injuries as medals of honor, proof they had bled for the Emperor.

He saluted, clasping a closed fist to his chest with his hand behind his back. “Vrepit Sa.”

Officer Tayne acknowledged him with a flick of his single ear. “Vrepit Sa. At ease, Officer, this is just a casual visit.”

They had known each other before Tayne was promoted a few phoebs ago at their last assignment. They had overlooked the construction of a colony on a desert planet before Tayne was promoted and Takor was reassigned to overseeing the construction of a colony station. Then the war in X-9-Y occurred and they were both sent here.

Takor relaxed, dropping his salute and turned to a small table with glasses and the Emperor’s Blood, the same culprit from his disastrous confession. He poured two glasses, “I wasn’t expecting you so soon, sir.”

Officer Tayne regarded the couch with a critical eye before lowering himself onto it. The cushions sagged beneath his weight and he shifted several times. “Someone should teach the natives how to build proper furniture.”

Takor handed him a glass, getting an odd sensation of dejavu as not one week ago he had done the same with Bridget Walsh. “Is there any news from Central Command?”

“Nothing of significance,” Tayne said casually, accepting the glass and took a long drink. He sighed in pleasure as the liquid spread through his system warming his old bones. “It’s been a long time since I indulged in Emperor’s Blood. It must have cost your firstborn to have it ported this far out.”

“It was a gift,” Takor said, hoping Tayne wouldn’t pry. It was another favor from his in-laws to bring him around to accepting the divorce agreements. He took a long pull from the glass and watched Officer Tayne. He wasn’t the sort to only visit and share a drink.

When Tayne swallowed the last few drops of his wine, he leaned forward with a grunt. “There’s been rumors of rebel activity in Limerick.”

Takor raised his eye ridges, in surprise, “This is news to me. It’s been very quiet here. The most excitement we’ve had was when native youths graffiti a groundcar. Every now and again, we’ll get that one human that forgets his place and that is dealt with quickly and efficiently.”

“These humans are very clever. Primitive, but they're fast learners and can adapt,” Tayne yawned hard enough to pop his jaws. “Commander Prorok has been howling for all rebel activity to be stamp out,” Officer Tayne muttered, looking wistfully at the wine bottle and Takor was quick to refill his glass. “I came to deliver a fair warning that if rebels have been operating in your zone, under your nose, then Prorok will chop it off.”

Takor kept his ears straight, concealing how much the news affected him. Commander Prorok was not a man to displease, especially when his ambitions are being hampered. What had been perceived as an easy conquest had become a quagmire of insurrections and resistance. The humans didn’t take the loss well at all.

“I have everything under control in my sector,” Takor assured him. “There has been no rebel activity.”

“Rebel activity isn't only blowing up groundcars or taking shots at soldiers,” Tayne said pointing a long gnarl finger at him, “They have been smuggling people out of Aberdeen and Perth to join with rebel colonies on the mainland. Even if the zone is quiet, always keep a headcount. Any humans that suddenly go missing may be seen again aiming guns at you.”

The thought of how Bridget stop coming to work made the fur on his back rise. Then it was as dismissed. She wouldn’t be involved with anything so dangerous.

Tayne drained another glass of wine, his eyes becoming heavy as a warm lassitude spread over him. “I also bring another message. From your in-laws.”

Takor’s eyes widen and his ears laid back, “What?”

“Now don’t start growling at me. We share the same in-laws and I’m only passing this message along to get them off my back,” Tayne scolded. “And here it is: last chance to accept the terms of the divorce or they will take the issue to an Arbitrator.”

Takor’s eyes narrowed as his ears flattened to the sides and his lips tighten, nearly baring teeth. “No Arbitrator will consent to their wishes as long as I refuse the divorce. I am a valuable Officer of the Empire and they cannot force a divorce that I do not want.”

“Then you had best not do anything that would besmirch your career.” Officer Tayne stated eyeing the bottle again and then set the glass on the counter. It wouldn’t do to overindulge while he was on duty. “Why not grant them the divorce? You haven’t seen the woman in years and you’ve held out for enough money to buy this mudball. Consent to the divorce and with your background, you can find another wife within a phoeb.”

“Eventually, I will consent,” Takor admitted sullenly, “But in my own time.”

“Well, don’t let that time be too far off,” Tayne muttered rising to his feet. He groaned, shifting his boots and stretching his old tired bones. “Strike now while you have the advantage. Pride and spite can only make you feel good, not stop a disaster.”

***

Once he saw Warrant Officer Tayne to the door, Takor took the passes from the drawer and pocketed them. The humans have already left work and only sentries stayed to carry out menial labor while Galra went off duty. He took the side door out to the parking lot, looking for Bridget as he went. The lot was empty and the sun was just beginning its descent. A cool breeze stirred the hair between his ears, reminding him the planet would be cold for several more phoebs before warming up. For now, it seemed the usual rainy weather of this island had taken a respite from its many soakings.

He almost wished it would rain. It would give him an excuse to offer Bridget a ride home while she was here. There was a chance she may not come, but that wouldn't matter. If she passed up the passes, then he would wait until she became desperate enough to ask for aid. The taxes were due to rise again next phoeb and the suspension on theirs would pass. Even if she moved to another home or to the tenement housing, he would find her easily and hold out a helping hand she would inevitably have to accept.

He didn’t think of it as blackmail or stalking, more like educating her. She needed to learn the good fortune having him in her life would bring. He didn’t fault her ignorance. Her people have just felt the might of the Galra Empire so they have yet to truly understand their place in the Universe. And he would see to it that Bridget learned what it was to be loved by him, she only needed some guidance.

He heard the crackle of gravel a fraction of a second before a harsh bow across his spine forced him forward. He caught himself across against the groundcar and through muscle memory, gained from extensive training, he went for his gun.

“Don’t.”

Something hard jabbed into his back beneath his heart. Takor froze, hissing under his breath. Officer Tayne had warned of rebel activity only minutes ago and here he was about to be executed by one.

“Both hands on the car. Now,” the human voice ordered.

“You don’t realize it,” Takor growled, not moving. “But you are committing suicide . . .”

Another blow across his shoulders silenced him. He caught himself before his face could smash against the car window.

“Don’t talk,” the voice said with a brogue the humans of this island spoke through. “Both hands on the car where I can see them.”

His ear twitched as he noted the familiarity in the voice. Male, gravel tone, but young, he had heard it somewhere before, but where? His gun was pulled from its holster. Takor hoped the human was foolish enough to try to use it and get a nasty shock once the epidermal scans detected non-Galra DNA. His hopes were dashed when the gun was thrown to the side where it skidded far, far out of reach.

“I want the travel passes,” the human ordered, shoving what seemed to be a barrel of a gun into his ribs.

“What passes?” Takor muttered, buying time to think. What sort of weapon did the human have? A rifle? A handgun? If he moved fast enough, could he disarm the human?

“Don’t play fucking games with me, kat.”

How did he know about the passes? Then it clicked together. “Devin Walsh, you shite for brains idiot. Bridget wouldn’t have sent you,”

A savage blow caught him across the back of the skull. He barely stayed on his feet, his vision went blurry for a few seconds before coming back into focus. Pain throbbed in his temples, promising him a terrible headache later if he survived this.

“You do not say her name, kat,” Devin Walsh snarled. “You will never see her again. You will never speak to her again. And as God as my witness, you will never so much as think of her again. Am I clear?”

He should have expected this and not let it catch him by surprise like this. Yet, Devin Walsh had been a distant cloud, a connection to Bridget he could cut lose when the time was right. It seemed that striking too soon had given the enemy the advantage. “What’s your plan?” Takor snarled, his claws leaving lines in the car’s paint. “You steal the passes and I let you go? I’ll call . . .”

“Go ahead, call whoever. The passes are in our names, aren’t they? They would have to be for you to issue them. How can I steal something that has my name on it? Or,” then Devin’s voice took a dangerous undertone, “there are no passes and you were lying to my wife just to lure her out here.”

Takor’s fur rose around his neck, his crest nearly standing straight into a fin. “They’re real. I wouldn’t lie to her.”

A wad of spittle almost landed on his shoe. “Show me the fucking passes then. In case you haven’t realized this is a shotgun. It may be nothing but a pop gun compared to your hi-tech weaponry, but it can tear you in half from this range.”

Takor slowly moved one hand towards his pocket. “These passes will be useless when you’re arrested for having a firearm.”

“You let me worry about that,” Devin prodded him with the gun. “Hurry.”

Taking the passes from his pocket, he held them upward at an odd angle from his shoulder. “Here. Take them.”

Devin had to reach for the passes and Takor used that moment to strike. He twisted at the waist and thrust an elbow into Devin’s side, stunning him. Without losing the advantage or giving the human a chance to recover, Takor swept an arm knocking Devin’s weapon away. The gun - actually a mere wooden stick - clattered across the pavement.

“You little bastard,” Takor snarled.

“Fuck you,” Devin growled and threw himself at the Galra.

A fist clipped the edge of Takor’s jaw, rocking his head, but he responded with bringing two clasped fists down between Devin’s shoulders. The human went down, only to be brought up by a rising knee which connected with a meaty smack into Devin’s face. Takor took pleasure in watching him fall on his knees, clutching his face. Blood seeped between his fingers and stained the front of his shirt.

He bent to pick up the passes. “Go home to Bridget and show her your weakness, Walsh,” he spat. “Tell her if she still wants these passes she can come to collect them another day . . .”

“Don’t. You. Say. Her. Name,” the voice was strained snarl in a paroxysm of rage.

With a strength that not even Devin himself expected, the human threw himself at Takor, catching his legs with both arms and tripping him. They both fell across the asphalt grappling at each other. Devin hauled himself up Takor’s body as if he were climbing a tree until he was on top of him. He pressed an arm across Takor’s throat, pinning him to the ground.

“My Da hit a lot harder than you when I was a kid,” Devin growled before delivering a solid blow across the face, nearly bloodying his nose in return.

Takor twisted, grabbing at Devin’s clothes and trying to pry him off, but the human was stronger than he anticipated. Two things were in Devin’s favor when tussling with a Galra. Firstly, he had learned how to take blows as a boy during the late nights his father came home drunk and angry. Secondly, the long months he had spent working hard manual labor had given him the strength and endurance to endure. He gave back and then some with each deftly delivered blow. Takor never imagined that a mere human could be his equal in a brawl. Every time he tried to stand where his height can give him the advantage, Devin bore him back onto the asphalt.

A sharp strike to the kidney forced a yelp from his lips and with all his might, he shoved Devin away from him. His back hit the groundcar with a metallic thud that shook the car. The human squatted a few feet away from him, panting through bloodied lips, his eyes dim from pain. His body was coiled with violence, ready to continue fighting if need be.

“I can . . . see why . . .she chose you as a mate,” Takor grounded out. He pressed a loose tooth with his tongue. The bloody human nearly knocked his teeth out.

“If you think . . . she married me because . . . I was strong . . .then you don’t know her . . . at all,” Devin wheezed.

“Then why?” Takor grunted, shifting against the car tire. His ribs were aching something fierce and he was beginning to believe that some of them were cracked.

“Honestly?” Devin muttered, catching his breath. “I don’t know. I had to beg her to marry me.”

“Hmph, then it was out of pity,” Takor said touching a particular sore stop on on his far. Purplish blood clung to his fingers.

As if sensing the fight had left his opponent, Devin rested on his rear, his legs bent. He hadn’t fared much better than Takor. His face was bloody with the promise of bruises within a few hours time. The sun had slipped further since he left the building. He wondered how much time had passed since then.

“How does this end?” Takor asked. “We keep fighting until one kills the other?”

“We could do that,” Devin replied. “But I don’t intend to die today and I don’t think you do either.”

Takor grunted. “So what now?”

“I take the passes and I go home to my wife and son,” Devin said.

Takor snorted, “No. You assaulted a Galra Officer. They’re going to put you against that wall over there and shoot.”

Devin nodded, “True, you can do that, but Bridget will hate you. She’ll hate you to her last breath.” He noticed the flick in Takor’s ears and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, “Ah, you don’t like the thought of Bridget hating you, do you? Why should it matter to you? I’m surprised you didn’t force yourself on her that day you made that pass at her.”

“I don’t wish to hurt her,” Takor said in distaste.

Then Devin’s brows rosed, “Christ, you actually care about her. Now I don’t know whether to keep giving your arse a kicking or feel sorry for you.”

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” Takor hissed, incensed by the humiliation of sympathy from a rival - no, not a rival, a foe!

“Then . . .this can only end in one way,” Devin said, rising painfully to his feet. “I’m taking the passes and Bridget and I are leaving Limerick. You stop us or have me arrested, Bridget will blame you for it. She still thinks well enough of you to trust. If you want to part ways with her having a warm image of you, then don’t try to stop us from leaving Limerick.”

Takor watched the human limp to where the passes had fallen. He picked them up, slip them into a back pocket, and hobbled away. He didn’t have any thoughts of Walsh being arrested by a patrol for breaking curfew. He had the feeling the human knew how to stay out of sight and though it would take him a long time to make it home, he would make it in one piece.

Pushing himself to his feet, he allowed himself to groan as every hurt place in his body protested. Despite his shorter stature and lack of natural weapons, Walsh had been a strong fighter. It was no wonder the invasion forces had taken longer than usual to take this planet. The humans fought hard and if they had the same level of technology as the Galra it would have been a bloodied war on both sides.

He went inside the courthouse and avoided the remaining sentries and drones. Upon detecting an injured Galra, they would immediately summon a medical team. The last thing Takor wanted was his beating from a human to go on file, damaging his reputation, or as Tayne would call it, besmirch his career. In his office, he pulled a medikit from a drawer and tended to his injuries.

Self medicating was discouraged by medics as most Galra tended to over medicate themselves to appear to be without pain. Takor had was careful in taking only what was needed to dull the pain to tolerable levels and only used Fast Heal on injuries that can’t be hidden by clothing. Shucking off the top of his uniform he examined the damage in the private bathroom. He had to stoop a bit to see in the human size mirror above the sink. His fur will hide most of the bruising and his ribs were cracked. Most of the damage was to his face which was beginning to swell. He soaked a cloth and pressed it to his face taking comfort in the coolness. Fast Heal should reduce the swelling within a few hours and mend his ribs in a day. He took pleasure in knowing Walsh would suffer longer without the aid of Galra medicine.

After medicating himself, he sat down behind his desk, cursing Devin Walsh. He would wait for the Fast Heal to do its work and then go to his quarters at the base. Slowly, the pain faded as the painkillers began taking affect, but he still felt the pang of losing Bridget. It surprised him at how over the course of the year how attached he became with her. There had been times when he wanted to hold onto her and not let her leave his side forever.

He needed to distract himself before he fell into a depression. He turned on his console and checked his workload. There was a list of humans wishing to enter Limerick and the requests needed his approval. He scanned through lists of names until one caught his eye. He leaned forward, wincing from his cracked ribs. He selected the name which brought up a profile and a copy of the man’s request.

_Citizen Walsh came in reeking of liquor and requested to travel to Limerick to be with family._

_**Son:** _ Devin Walsh

 **Daughter-In-Law:** Bridget Walsh

 **Grandson** : Unknown

Once, a while back, Bridget had been speaking about Devin’s family but refused to speak of his father. She would only say, He was not a good man.

_My Da hit a lot harder than you when I was a kid._

Devin may have left here thinking it was over, oh, but it was far from it. Takor tapped the request and authorized the travel plan.


	19. Chapter 19

I yelled at Devin for almost twenty minutes.  I called him a bloodied, crazy fool. How could he have been so stupid to risk his life?  We needed him alive, not dead! What would I do without him? Did he want Connor to grow up without a father? I would stop when I ran out of steam, catch my breath and then tear into him again with fresh fervor, angrier than I was the moment before.

When my fury had finally run its course, I clung to him and wept, not caring if I hurt him because, in my mind, he deserved it.  He held me close, grimacing as I pressed against sore bruises, and told me it would be alright. We didn’t need to worry about Takor anymore and we would soon be on our way to Dublin.

“By the way, I think I was fired,” Devin said with a wry grin.

I halfheartedly socked him in the shoulder, but couldn’t stop the tearful smile spreading across my face.  “You git! Now we’re both unemployed parents. What a horrid example we’re setting for Connor.”

The following morning, Devin’s bruises were in full bloom.  Dark and purple marks covered his chest and side. Devin's face was so swollen the next morning, Connor didn’t recognize him and cried when Devin tried to pick him up.  I had to reassure him that the stranger with the swollen eye was his father and that Da fell and hurt himself. Many times.

While Devin rested and recovered, Eva and I began packing in earnest.  We moved the things we couldn’t take but didn’t want to give up to her apartment in the hope that one day we could send for them. I packed clothing into a trunk while listening for a security groundcar to speed up the street to arrest Devin.  None came and nor did the phone ring. I felt better as if a bad chapter had finally been closed and we could put it behind us.

When Devin was feeling better, we registered our passes.  He wanted to go alone, but I refused to let him go without me.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight until we’re in Dublin,” I said, donning my coat despite his protests.  “The night you got the passes, I spent every second worrying I would never see you again. Whatever happens, it’s going to happen to both of us.”

So we went together to the courthouse holding hands. The department we needed was downstairs and well away from the archives and Takor’s office.  We still kept an out eye for him in case he made an unwanted appearance. A sentry clerk scanned our passes and then admitted us to see a Galra rep of Citizen Affairs. To travel to Dublin, we had to be admitted there by a Galra Officer in the zone we wished to moved to. Devin told the rep he had family in Dublin that we could move in with and promised we immediately seek jobs to help pay taxes.

He typed in our information, pulling up our records, then gave us a critical eye, “You have a kit?”

“Yes, he’ll be a year old in a few months,” I said, hoping that Connor wouldn’t need a pass for himself.  As far as we knew, young children could travel with their parents without one.

“So that will be two civilians and a child,”  he muttered accessing his database. “I’ll notify you once your records has been reviewed.”

It was three days later when the phone rang.  Fearing it was Takor again, Devin answered it.  He gave a cautious greeting and after a few seconds, he relaxed, relieved, “Yes sir, we’ll be ready by then.”  He hung up the phone and looked at me, smiling, “They accepted our passes in Dublin. We’re set to leave by shuttle next Thursday 8:00 AM, sharp.”

A tension I had been carrying between my shoulders melted away.  This was it. We could finally move on with our lives with family.

We had a very Merry Christmas that year.  Eva came over with a present of a prepared goose.  She wouldn’t tell us how she acquired what was today such a premium fowl.  She even brought some gifts for Connor trussed up in wrapping paper and ribbons.  Christmas morning, we coached Connor on opening his gifts and took joy in his open delight with the toys.

“I wish you were coming with us,” I said to Eva that morning once all the gifts were unwrapped.

Eva gave me an apologetic smile.  “I have worked here to do. But don’t worry, you’ll be fine in Dublin.  I have some friends there who’ll help you find jobs.” She looked at Devin when she said this last bit.

He nodded and winced as he hefted a crowing Connor clambering onto his lap.  His injuries were healing, but he was still sore. His eye had returned to its normal size and the bruises had faded to a soft yellow. He wouldn’t tell me the exact details of how he got hurt.  I suspected he been in a fight and I believed I knew who his opponent had been. For a few days, I worried there would be some retribution, but none came. The passes had been accepted and our itinerary had already been set.  We only had to be on the shuttle by 8:00 with our passes scanned. If we missed it, then our passes would be revoked and we would go through the whole process again and they may not admit us the second time.

For some reason, I was obsessed with cleaning the house from top to the bottom as we packed our belongings.  We were allowed only two bags apiece. We spend what time we had moved furniture to Eva's apartment. It had taken multiple trips even with a cart we borrowed from a neighbor.  Eva’s extra room was beginning to look like a hoarder's den by the last trip.

As I packed our belongings, the reality of leaving our home set in. I had been cleaning out our closet when I found an outfit I had bought before finding out I was pregnant.  It was a sundress that would look great for a date night. The future had held so much promise of joy before the word Galra had been spoken.

I remember moving into this house after our marriage.  This had been my home for only a few years and it was heartbreaking to leave it.  This was supposed to be Connor’s home too, where he would grow up and possibly inherit.  Everything was being uprooted and thrown into chaos and uncertainty. I missed the security of when everything being as it should be.

I kept my feelings to myself, not wanting to dampen Devin’s own excitement of reuniting with his family.  He had managed to send them a message, telling them the good news and they were delighted to have us. It had been a short call lasting only two minutes but was very costly.   

We only had enough money to keep us fed until the day of our departure and the rest would pay off the travel fee.  The thought of being penniless was frightening, but it wouldn’t be for long. We would both get jobs and with Devin’s sister working, we would have the income of three working adults.  Devin's mother would watch Devin so we wouldn't have to worry about daycare for Connor.

It should have happened that way.  It should have! Everything was coming together, we had a plan, we had a future!  Then we - I had nothing.

***

The morning before it all went to hell, we made love.  Eva had stayed over and kept Connor entertained while Devin and I had some alone time.  We had sex three times before we fell asleep in each other's arms.

I woke with the weight of his head on my chest.  I curled my arms around him, kissing his hair, breathing in the smell of sweat and sex from last night. At that moment, I was contented and happy, basked in the warmth of my lover.  I began humming a song, O Holy Night of all things. Christmas had come and gone, but it was still my favorite carol. My private school had us sing it each year in choir practice so it was very much ingrained in me.  I went from humming to singing the soft words to him.

“That’s nice,” he muttered into my skin before raising his head, his eyes meeting mine.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, stroking his smooth back, feeling each dip and curve of his muscle beneath the skin.

“It’s alright, I have a lot to do today anyway,” he murmur but made no move to get up.  His arms curled tighter around me and lowered his head. I gasped as moisture swept over a nipple sending excited thrills throughout my chest.

My head rolled back, lips parting as the gentle pulls continued on my breasts. My body quivered from the memory of last night and the wonderful expectation of receiving him again.  I turned his face up to mine and drank from his mouth. We knew each others’ bodies as we knew our own. I knew by heart the gentle curls of the hair on his chest, the line of his spine down the valley of his back, and the firm roundness of his buttocks in my hands.  The moment, that sweet revelry of joining our bodies together, feeling him around me, inside me, and with me. When it finished, and between people who dearly love each other it is never quite finished, we lay together, holding hands, not willing to let go. I lay across his stretched arm, my hair over my shoulders across his chest, as I tasted the salt from his neck.

“I love you, Bridget,” Devin said with his arm enfolding me close to him.

“I love you, Devin,” I said, knowing that words couldn’t express what I felt for him and that he felt the same for me.  I laid my hand over his chest, feeling the thud of his heart beneath my palm. A small thought, nagging doubt, had been bothering me, rose to the surface.  “Were you ever afraid that I would be like Beverly? Like leave you for a Galra?”

Devin looked at me with raised brows.  “What makes you ask that?”

I shrugged, lowering my eyes from his, “I don’t know.  I wondered if that was part of the reason you were so worried over Takor . . .”

He took my chin and raised my face to his.  His eyes carried all the seriousness “Let me set the record straight and this is the end of this line of thinking.  Not once, not ever, did I ever think you would leave me for him. Never. My fear was that he would hurt you and there would be nothing I could do about it.  And, Bridget, no secrets, okay? I can handle anything that happens, but I can’t handle you keeping things from me because you don’t want to make me mad. There’s nothing you can do that’ll make me love you any less, alright?”

I nodded, a small tear drew a line down my cheek and Devin kissed it away.   I went to shower and he dressed and went downstairs to help move the rest of our belongings to Eva’s apartment.  We didn’t see each other for most of the day. I watched Connor to keep him out of the way and taught him how to say Nana and Auntie so he could surprise Devin’s mother and sister.  We stayed up talking about the movie and shared one last meal in our home. That night, we were so tired we went straight to sleep.

It was the noise that woke me.  I first heard it in my sleep and believed it to be part of a dream, but it persisted.  It was a shuffling creak of floorboards bearing weight and it was coming from downstairs. We had rolled up the living room rug and took it to Eva’s so the wooden floor in the downstairs hall was bare and creaked underfoot.  Devin was sleeping beside me and Eva was at her apartment so who was that downstairs?

I shook Devin’s shoulder, “Devin, wake up, please, wake up.”  He moaned and stretched an arm over my waist to tuck me against him.  I pinched his arm hard, desperate for him to wake up. “Please, get up.  Someone’s in the house.”

His eyes shot open and he listened.  Upon hearing the creaking from below, he was out of bed and on his feet in a shot.  He stalked to an old wardrobe wearing only a pair of sweatpants. “When I go downstairs, go to Connor’s room and stay there.  Lock the door and don’t open it for anyone other than me.”

I was getting out of bed, my heart in my throat.  “Is it the Galra?”

“No, they wouldn’t be sneaking around downstairs.  It’s some fucker trying to rob us.” He bent onto one knee and reached beneath the wardrobe.  There was a rip that sounded like duct tape being pulled and he withdrew a gun. It was the same gun Eva had given us a year ago and the one I had begged Devin to throw away.

My blood froze.  He never told me where he had hidden it, but I suspected it was somewhere close by.  “Oh, Devin . . .”

“Go to Connor’s room, now.”

“Stay upstairs with me,” I begged, reaching out to take his arm to keep him from going.

“Bridge, the money’s downstairs,” he said as he left the bedroom.

Oh God, the money we had saved to pay the traveler’s fees if the thief took that . . .

I followed Devin into the hall and stayed by Connor’s door while he crept towards the stairs.  With a last look at me, he went downstairs, his feet testing each step before putting weight on them.  I was torn between following my husband into danger and going to my child to protect him. I waited with bated breath and listened with my heart down the stairs with him. I don’t know how long I stood there, with my hand on the bedroom door for what seemed an eternity.  Then I heard Devin shout thunder from downstairs.

‘WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE!?”

I hurried down the stairs without care for my own safety.  There was something in his voice that underlined the outrage that called out to me.  Fear and pain. My bare feet hammered the stairs, my nightgown sweeping against my body from the speed of my flight.

Devin was pointing the gun at a man wearing a dirty coat and a balding head with greasy hair hanging beneath his jawline.  He held up hands wearing fingerless gloves and they were as filthy as the rest of him. I didn’t recognize him until he fixed his eyes on me, the same blue eyes as Devin’s and Connor’s.

“Oh dear God in Heaven,” I breathed.

It was Devin’s father.

He was a smaller man than I had imagined, but then you don’t have to be large to hurt small children. I could smell the whiskey from all the way across the room and under it was the foulness of a body that had not seen soap and water for weeks.  The coat hung off his bony frame almost swaying behind him like a cape. A toothy grin spread across his grizzled face and I could see he was in sore need of a dental hygienist. They were yellow with a single front tooth so rotten it was black. “I knocked, but no one answered so I let myself in.  The cold was too much for my old bones.”

Devin didn’t move nor did the gun.  His eyes narrowed into small slits of pure hate.  “You stole the spare key Kenneth had to this place when you took his money, didn’t you?”

“Ehhh, is that any way to greet your old Da?  How long has it been since I saw ye? Five years?”

“Try fifteen,” Devin replied coldly.  “And only because you knew I would break every damn bone in your body if dare show your face.”

His grin marginally faded a bit, but then brighten as he turned his gaze to me, “Evening madame, you must be Devin’s girl.”

“She’s not my ‘girl’, she’s my wife!”  Devin said scathingly. To me, he said, “Go into the kitchen and make sure the money’s there.”

“If you don’t want me here then I’ll just be leaving,” Kevin Walsh said shrugging, but I noticed the sudden worry in his tone.  “I won’t stay where I’m not welcomed.”

My suspicions rose as I hurried into the kitchen.   We kept the money in a tin jar that was now lying empty on its side in the affirmation that Mr. Walsh had taken all 250 gac.  There was no need for words. I picked up the tin and held it for Devin to see.

He turned murderous eyes on his father who back away in fright but stiffened his spine.  “I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Don’t move!”  Devin barked.

Kevin Walsh turned heel and ran for the door at a limping gait as if he was unaccustomed to running.  Devin sprinted after him, catching him at the door, and hitting him across the back of the skull with the gun.  The older man fell against the door, clinging to the knob and Devin shoved him onto the floor. He pressed a knee into his chest and shoved the gun into his face.

“I dreamed of killing you for years,” Devin snarled.  His finger was on the trigger, trembling as if in uneasy anticipation of squeezing it.  “Now you just gave me an excuse.”

“Stop!”  I cried. I had dropped the tin and ran into the living room, but stopped short, too afraid to get any closer.

“Get back!”  Devin shouted at me, grinding his knee into his own father’s chest.  “Go upstairs to Connor.”

“You won’t do it!”  Mr. Walsh spat nastily, an ugly grin stretching his bony face.  “You’re a wee shit like back when you were a wee pup. Always wailing from every little smack . . .”

“You fucking punched me in the face on my fifth birthday,” Devin snarled, pain edging every word.  “When Kenneth was seven, you broke his arm. When Mary was six, you burned her with a cheroot. And that’s not even mentioning all the times you beat Ma,”  Devin was nearly in tears, his teeth gnashed as he spoke, the pain seeping through his voice. “And that’s only scratching the surface of everything you’ve done to us.  When Kenneth was willing to forgive and forget, taking you into his home, you robbed him! You fucking stole every gac he had and then piss it away on booze. Then you-you come here and try to rob my family?  From your grandson? Jesus Christ, what kind of monster are you?”

During Devin’s diatribe, Kevin Walsh’s hand was slowly creeping into his coat pocket and I didn’t notice until a flash of metal caught my eye.  I shouted too late. The knife sank into Devin’s thigh, slicing through both cloth and flesh. Devin’s agonized cry was followed by the gun going off.

The echo seemed to last forever and we were both frozen at that moment when Devin kill his father. For several seconds, my ears buzzed as blood spread from Mr. Walsh’s greasy tangled hair in a halo of crimson. The smoking gun fell on the floor and Devin backed away from the body, horror striking his features.  Blood stained his leg, leaving red smears on the floor. A coppery smell reached my nose making me gag.

There were so many things we should have been doing in those precious minutes we spent in shock.  Taking the gun and hiding it for one thing. Looking out the window to make sure no one had heard.  To take away the corpse and clean the blood. But we stood there and wasted our chance.

The door was thrown open.  It banged off Kevin Walsh’s body and swung back shaking.  Then it was forced open, pushing the body across the floor.  Takor stood in the doorway, gun in hand. I stared at him as if I had never seen him before.  The surrealism of having him here so suddenly after this devastation was overwhelming.

He came inside, the tips of his ears brushing the lintel as he ducked his head.  He took in the scene; the body at his feet, Devin on the floor, me standing there in shocked, and then the gun.  “We have Class B weapon. Arrest him.” He pointed at Devin.

“N-n-no,” I whispered as sentry appeared behind Takor and moved to where Devin still sat, staring in mute horror at his father’s body.

He was seized by the arms, hauled to his feet, and shoved against the wall.  A set of shackles locked his wrists in place behind his back. A second sentry tread through the blood and its metal feet left neat red prints as it came towards me, a set of shackles in hand.  I backed away, the back of my legs barking against an armchair, my heart in my throat. Its optical band gleamed at me, scanning and logging me into its internal database. I raised an arm to ward it off and a metal hand grabbed it in a bruising grip.

“Stop!”  Devin cried.  He was being frog-marched towards the door.  Takor nodded for the sentry to pause and gave Devin his attention.  Devin pleaded with him, “She didn’t know about the gun, Takor, I never told her I had it.  I swear she didn’t know.”

Takor gazed back at Devin and an understanding passed between them.  He nodded, “Alright, leave her, but take his father’s body along too.”

The sentry let go of my arm and turned away.  There was a large pink mark that hurt on my arm near the wrist.  I ignored the pain as I watched the first sentry take my husband away through the front door.  Charging after them, slipping in the blood, my bare feet leaving long tracks in the pool. Takor caught my shoulder and kept me from spilling across the front steps.

“No!  Please, don’t take him away!”  I screamed, reaching towards Devin who was being taken to a patrol groundcar parked on the lawn.  There were long tread marks in the grass where the tires had ripped up the soil.

“You have to stay here,” Takor said.  He held onto me, keeping me from running down the steps after my husband.   

“Please, you can’t take him!  He was only protecting us! We were being robbed . . .”

“Bridget, go inside to your son.  I’ll take care of Devin,” he told me gently, almost paternally.

“Go inside!”  Devin called back over his shoulder.  The sentry was pushing him into the back of a patrol car without bothering to duck his head.  Devin barely missed hitting his head on the edge of the door, “Go inside before they change their minds.”

Then I was cajoled inside by Takor who actually raised me up by the shoulders and out of the way of the second sentry collecting the body.  It dragged Kevin by ankles without ceremony or care and the hated man’s head hit every step. An angry voice inside my head said I wished he was still alive to feel every smack on his crown.   

I twisted around as soon as my feet found the floor and I grasped at Takor’s arms, “Please!  He didn’t do anything!”

“He killed his father, Bridget, he’s in a lot of trouble.”  He gently moved my hands from his arms.

“But he stabbed Devin in the leg with a knife!  He broke into our home and tried to steal our money!”

“I’ll see to it that you get your money back.  Stay here for tonight and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The bastard brushed my hair from my forehead and kissed it before leaving.  I stood at the window, barely able to see through the tears, as they carried Devin away.

Connor was screaming upstairs, awaken and frighten by the gunshot.  How long had he been crying? How long since the gun had gone off? How long had it seen since I woke up?  I was midway up the stairs before realizing there was still blood on the soles of my feet and I had left a track of bloodied footprints behind me.  Scooting into the bathroom to wash my feet in the shower, I called to Connor, telling him I would be there in a second.

I never realized how hard it was to clean blood and how it could get everywhere.  It stained the edge of my nightgown, my legs, and hands, and turned the water a dull shade of pink.  I dried my feet and washed my hands in the sink before hurrying into Connor’s nursery. He was standing in the crib holding onto the rail and crying.  I checked my hands first to make sure they were clean of any blood and took him into my arms.

I kissed his wet cheeks, sang to him, rocked him, and even read him a story.  He calmed down and fell asleep on my chest, a thumb in his mouth, and soft lashes brushing my skin. I stroked his hair and hummed a lullaby, doing everything I could not think about what had happened in our home and that Devin was gone.

I dozed off with my son’s head beneath my chin.  I was later awakened by another sound from downstairs, but this time it was Eva screaming.  She had come through the front door and seen the blood and assumed the worst. I hurried downstairs with Connor who was whimpering protests at being disturbed.  She was standing in the middle of the living staring open mouth at my bloody footprints.

When she saw me on the stairs, she cried, “What the hell happened!?  Your living room looks like a horror film set.”

Seeing her brought some solace, but also more tears.  Eva came up to meet me on the stairs, stepping carefully over the blood stains.  “You look like hell warmed over. Where’s Devin?”

I don’t know what I said, words were bubbling out between each sob.  Connor began to fuss, rubbing his eyes on the back of one hand. Between the two of us, we were a cacophony of sounds and confusion.  Eva took Connor and told me to go upstairs, take a shower, and get some sleep.

“I’ll be down here cleaning up,” She said as she set Connor on her hip

“I . . .I can help . . .”

“No, you’re still in shock.  Take a shower and get some sleep.  I can handle it myself. If anything happens, I’ll call you.”

So I went upstairs as she asked, too numb to say or do otherwise.  I took a long shower with the water running as hot as I could stand and then mechanically dressed.  It was like I was in fog and all my thoughts were sluggish. The knowledge that Devin had been arrested was lingering at the edges, but it was like waiting to take off a band-aid.  It would hurt when it happened, so you waited until you were ready to bear it when you did it. Or you hoped you were ready.

I changed into a pair of old denim jeans and a comfortable blue sweater. After slipping into a pair of felt moccasins I went downstairs knowing that I wouldn’t sleep.  Not until I knew of what became of Devin. Eva was on her hands and knees cleaning away the blood with a scrub brush, a pair of dishwashing gloves, and a bucket of soapy pink water.

“You should be asleep,” Eva said looking up from her work.  She had tied her hair back from her face and loose strands clung to her sweaty temples and brow.

“I can’t.  I . . . I’ll make some tea.”  I said in a low croak.

“No, let me.  This blood can wait for me to finish.”  Eva stripped off cleaning gloves and got to her feet.  “Have a seat. It won’t take me long.”

I sat at the table feeling the fatigue and grief weighing me down.  Connor was in the corner playing in his playpen, happily ignorant of last night’s events. I wondered briefly if Eva had changed his nappy or not, then when we should start potty training.  Then my thoughts went to where we could find a potty training seat as I knew we didn’t have one after cleaning the house. Surely someone with kids would have one they no longer needed. My thoughts drifted further and further away in a form of escape, distancing myself from what would cause me unbearable pain.  Eva set a cup in front of me. It smelled of chamomile with a touch of cinnamon.

She sat across from me with her own teacup.  “Alright, start at the beginning and tell me happened.  Slowly.”

“I . . . I just told you . . .”  I said weakly.

“You spent five minutes sobbing about the Galra taking Devin away.  And that’s all I took from that exchange. Start from the beginning and tell me what happened."

I closed my hands around the warm cup and inhaled the tea’s fragrances, taking small comfort from it. I drank the tea and told her what happened from when the sound downstairs woke me to the sentries taking Devin away.  I had no more tears to weep, but my voice was low and cracked. Eva placed her hand over mine and held it until my story finished.

“Bridget, did they know the gun belonged to Devin?  Maybe you can swing it where Walsh brought the gun with him and Devin wrestled it away and shot him.”

I closed my eyes as grief welled up inside my chest.  “He told them the gun was his so they wouldn’t arrest me too.  He told them I didn’t know about it.”

“Damn!”  Eva smacked the table hard enough to rattle the cups.

Finally, it was hitting me, the thoughts I didn’t want to think, to imagine, to even consider.  They stripped me naked and scoured the flesh from my bones. Devin was gone. They would either kill him or send him away to a labor camp forever.  I would never see my husband again. Connor will grow up without a father.

Before my sadness could swallow me up, the phone rang. The teacup was knocked over as I charged from the table to snatch up the phone and brought it to my ear so fast I nearly smacked myself in the face.  I ignored Eva calling my name and focused my whole world on the voice from the other end.

“Yes?  Hello?”  I said trying not to panic.

“Bridget, are you alright?”  It was Takor.

“Tell me about Devin!”  I snapped, brushing off his concern,  “Is he alright?”

“Yes, he’s fine.  We had his injury tended to.”

“Where is he?  Can you let him come home?  Can I see him?”

There was a long pause and I held my breath, terrified of his next words.  “Why don’t you come to the courthouse? We can talk about it face to face.”

My lower trembled as I spoke, “Y-yes, I’m on my way right now.”

I hung up before he had a chance to say anything more.  I hurried to the coat rack and grabbed a jacket. “I’m going to the courthouse to see Takor.”

“Are you insane?  You can’t go there!”  Eva cried following me.  “Not to him!”

“Stay here with Connor.  I’ll be back soon, hopefully with Devin.”  I pulled on the coat and kicked off the moccasins.  There were winter boots by the closet door that would be better for walking in this frigid weather.

“Bridget, stop, listen to me,” she grabbed my arm and pulled me to face her.  “Takor isn’t going to release Devin. You’re a fool if you think he will without asking for something in return.  And even then, he still may not release Devin. ”

I pulled away from her.  “That’s fine. I’ll do whatever he wants if it means Devin can come home.”  I stepped into the boots and stamped to make sure they fit snuggly at the heels.

“Devin would rather die than have you sell yourself for his sake,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t know what Devin wants!”  I rounded on her, screaming. “Devin wants to be the father he never had for Connor.  He wants to see his mother and sister again in Dublin. He wants to be with me. If I have to play whore for a Galra, then I will if it gets me, my husband, back.  You never loved any man like I love Devin so you don’t know how it is tearing me apart that he may be gone forever!”

Eva drew back and hurt dashing through her eyes before she raised her emotional shield.  I had said too much as I knew all too well why she hesitated to commit or trust any man.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that . . .”

“Just go, Bridget.  Do what you have to to keep your family together.  I’ll stay here with Connor until you get back.” She turned away and went to the table where the tea had run over the edge and drip onto the floor.  She grabbed several napkins and began mopping up the mess.

I wanted to say something, to apologize, but time could be running out for Devin.  The sooner I saw Takor, the more likely I would get him back.

***

Even with the heavy coat, I still felt the chill of January as if I had gone without.  The only warmth I had was the hope I carried. Takor was my best chance to get Devin back and if it came with demands, then I would meet them, but I was no fool.  I would ask him to provide proof that he could free Devin before I let him touch me.

The courthouse seemed empty, but then I never been here so early in the morning. I had left just as curfew was lifting and I was grateful I wouldn’t see any of my old coworkers, Beverly in particular.  I could see her giving me a self-satisfied smirk as I went into Takor’s office. How did I ever believe that blonde bitch was my friend? Maybe the same way I thought Takor had been a friend to me?

Takor’s office door was open, likely in anticipation of my arrival.  I hesitated, finally considering what I could be doing. Imagining sex with Takor made my stomach rolled over in disgust.  I imagined touching fur instead of skin, to feel sharp teeth and claws on my flesh, and there was no telling what he looked like down there.

And that touch upon the immoral implications.  In God’s eyes, my body belonged to Devin just as he belonged to me. I would be breaking the Seventh Commandment against adultery, but this would be different.  My heart wouldn’t be in it and I would be doing it to save Devin’s life. Surely, God in His infinite wisdom could see that and not hold it against me.

“Bridget, you can come inside.  Don’t be afraid. You’re always welcome in here.”

My heart skipped a beat, how long have I been standing out here with conflicting emotions.  Before I had a chance to reconsider, I pushed open the door. The office was exactly as I had last seen it. It still had the furnishings from the previous owner, but with the Galra banner hanging on the wall proudly flourishing the Empire’s sigil.  A hi-tech terminal on the desk which had been modified for a Galra’s greater height. Takor was standing at the edge of his desk, setting a tablet down. He was wearing the same uniform as he had last night, or perhaps he changed into a uniform that looked identical.

“I’m here,” I said, nervous and even afraid.

“Close the door behind you.”

I closed the door, my heart thudding in my chest.  His words were terse, but soft, almost like a parent about to give a gentle scolding to a child.  “Where’s Devin?”

“Why don’t you have a seat?  I still have some wine if you . . .”

“Where’s Devin?”  I pleaded, unable to wait any longer.

Takor sighed, regret lining his face, “I did everything I could, but he’s on a transport to the Wicklow Labor camp.  They took him away an hour ago.”

People would use the phrase, ‘their world was shattered’.  I thought it happened all at once, but no, that would be too kind.  My world fell apart one painful piece at a time. I stopped breathing, as my lungs refused to air.  My vision swam and my legs buckled beneath me, then everything went black.

I managed not to blackout but stayed on my feet.  Takor was striding towards me and I backed away from him, nearly bumping against a table.  “Don’t touch me . . .”

“Bridget,” he said, sounding hurt and disappointed.  “I did everything I could, but the second a firearm came into it, it was out of hands.”

“What . . . what can I do . . .to get him back?”  I said on the verge of more tears. “Tell me what you want me to do so I can get him back.”

He stared at me uncomprehendingly until his ears laid back and he lowered his eyes, “Did you think I asked you to come here to perform sexual favors in return for Devin?”

I let my silence speak for me, looking away with my arms crossed.  He stared somberly at me, “I knew you didn’t trust me, but I didn’t believe you thought so little of me.”

I bit my lip, my hands tightening on my sleeves.  “You . . .you asked me to come to you for the passes.”

“In the parking lot.  Did you think I was going to treat you like some street whore and have a tryst in the back seat?  I only wanted to talk with you and I was going to give you the passes whether you choose to see me again or not.  But then, Devin was the one that came instead.”

Shame brushed at the edges of my suspicion, but I pushed it away.   “You came onto me in this very office . . .”

“I’m ashamed of how that happened,” Takor said leaning against the desk.  His talons curled over the edge of the surface as if to give his hands something to do.  “I do have feelings for you that are unprofessional and I did say and do things I wish I could take back. I wanted to apologize to you face to face and give you the passes as a means to repair the damage between us.  I’ve told you so many times before that I never want to hurt you.”

His words were a soothing balm on my nerves and the shame overcame my suspicions. I was relieved, banishing the ill thoughts of sleeping with Takor, but was still left with the grief of losing Devin.  I closed my eyes as a wave of pain and shame intermingle in my chest. “Can’t you do anything to bring Devin back?”

“All I could manage to do was keep them from executing him,”  Takor sighed. “The weapons ban comes from the top, far over my head, so there was very little I could do for him.  I’m sorry, Bridget, but Devin’s not coming back anytime soon.”

I took a deep breath and rubbed my face as if to wake myself up from this nightmare.  “Then there must be someone I can appeal to. Write a letter or . . .”

“You don’t want to do that.” Takor was speaking as gently as he could as if explaining the necessity of an uncomfortable medical procedure.  “This isn’t like your old government where you can openly protest. The Empire’s rule is absolute. If you try to speak on your husband’s behalf, then they can see your actions as insubordinate.  You’ll be lucky if they only ignore you and not order you arrested.”

“Oh, Lord,” I moaned.  

I was startled by a gentle touch on my shoulder.  Takor was standing next to me, his talons pricking lightly on my sweater.  “Your travel pass has been revoked.”

Damn,” I muttered.  Then again, I couldn’t see myself leaving for Dublin without Devin anyway.

“You’re going to need help.  You can resume work when you’re feeling up to it.”  He pushed gac chits into my hands. “I was able to confiscate the stolen money so I can give it back to you.”

“Thank you,” I said, sniffing.  I was too drained to weep anymore.  Suddenly, I wanted to lie down and sleep forever, and maybe wake up beside Devin.

Takor was kneeling before me, his hands on my shoulders.  Even when kneeling, his height brought his face nearly on level with mine.  He inhaled, breathing the scent of my tears and sadness. I realized then that I hadn’t even brushed my hair after my shower.  My hair was a cloud of curls and tangles, almost still damp.

“You’re going to be alright, Bridget.  You come to me if you need anything. Just like before.”

I nodded.  I was too tired, too numb, but . . . there was something pricking at the edges of my mind, insistent fluttering like a fly buzzing in my ear.  I missed something, something very crucial.

What was it?  What could it be?

Takor was talking to me, caressing me like he would comfort a sad child or a frightened animal.  He just said something important, that I needed my attention.

“What did you say?”  I whispered.

“I said it was a tragedy what happened with Devin’s father.”

Then everything snapped into place.  As an image, I couldn’t see until the final puzzle piece was in place.  “How . . . how did you know that man was Devin’s father?’

“Because Devin told me what happened,” he breathed into my face, enjoying being so close to me.

“No, before,” I said taking a step back.  He held onto my shoulders, but that didn’t keep me from moving away.  “Last night. You knew that man was Devin’s father. How did you know?  How did you get there so fast? It was only minutes after the gun went off.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the terminal.  I recalled Takor telling me his duties, namely approving travel passes to and from this part of Limerick.  Then the picture became clearer and a heavy stone fell in my stomach. “You knew he was Devin’s father because you approved his coming to Limerick . . .and you waived his traveler’s fee too . . .how else would that bastard could afford to travel.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions . . .”  Takor said, his ears flicking like a nervous cat’s.

It all fell into place as neatly as the knives in my heart and back.  “You knew something was going to happen so you were waiting.”

“I happened to be driving by when one of the sentries detected the gunshot.  When I learned it was your house, I sped over afraid you were hurt.”

“And how did you know about Devin’s father!?”

“I did approve his coming to  Limerick, but I thought he was your family.  I thought it would please you . . .”

I shoved away from him so quickly, he nearly ripped my sweater with his talons.  “Stop lying! I told you! Remember? I told you Devin’s father was a terrible man and, if not, you must have seen the records of the years of abuse!”

“You need to calm down.  You’re working yourself up into another fit . . .”

“You did this because Devin attacked you!  I bet it was quite a boon to see the gun. Gave you the perfect excuse to get him out of the way, right?”  The manipulation sickened me and I hated myself for nearly falling for it again.

I fled for the door, but I was pulled back by the arm.  I keep forgetting how quick Takor was when he needed to be.  I twisted and pulled with all my might, but like the sentry of last night, his grip was unyielding.

His spoke in a low tone, deep, like the stones in the depths of a pit.  “Alright, blame me if you want to if that’ll make you feel better, but I still care for you and you’re not stupid.  The fact remains that Devin isn’t coming back and you have a child . . .”

“Don’t you dare bring my son into this,” I hissed.

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “You have a child that you will be raising alone.  My offer to help still stands. You can return to work here anytime. If you need anything, come to me . . .”

“Fuck you, Takor,” I spat and ripped my arm from his grasp, leaving three shallow gashes along my forearm.  I didn’t feel the pain until I was well out of the courthouse and walking quickly along the street.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Bridget**

 

I didn’t think it was possible to feel so much emotional agony. I had suffered disappointments in my life, but they were minor compared to the black hole I was wading through. The day my dear cat died when I was eleven, the aftermath of fighting Lori McHiggins, or my father not coming to my wedding wasn’t anything compared to this.

Blood was dripping off the tips of my fingers and I squeezed my sleeve to staunch the bleeding.   Tending to myself was a means to distract me from the depression gripping my very being. I sat on a bench to see the damage and sure enough I was bleeding from three scratches along my arm from where Takor had tried to keep me from leaving.  They weren’t deep, but they stung.

Takor, the name now evoked so much rage and hate that I spat savagely on the grass to vent a small piece of my fury.  We were so close to leaving, to moving on, and he dashed all that and for what reason? To get back at Devin? Or to get him out of the way to get to me?

Then I hated myself for ever knowing Takor in the first place.  I brought him into our lives. I was so friendly with him that he believed he had feelings for me, and then I trusted the bastard!  Devin would never have gone to get the passes if I had never spoken with Takor if I had only stayed off the fucking phone. My line of thinking led me down a long road.  I became furious with Devin for having the gun and not throwing it away when I begged him to. And then I hated myself for not continuing to insist he get rid of it or found it myself and tossed it out.  My rage turned to Kevin Walsh, may he burn in hell for being such a shite who abused and stole from family. If only I had acted sooner, grabbed the gun and hid it or locked the door to buy Devin some time to run away.  Over and over, like a carousel of blame, I in turned blamed each party member, but most of all myself.

I went home, hugging myself against the chill and for some small physical comfort.  When I arrived home, I nearly burst into tears again knowing that never again would I share this home with Devin.

The warmth inside did little to warm the following cold that had me in its grasp.  Eva was in the living room with my bags packed and Connor tuck warmly in the pushchair with Wey. She gave me an endearing smile with no sign of the pain I caused with my callous words, “I think it’s time to move out of here, don’t you?”

I nodded, choking on a small laugh, “I can’t - can’t stay here without him . . .”

I wanted to say more, to tell her what I had discovered, but the words couldn’t come.  They stayed in my throat, almost choking me. Eva patted my arm, “You can tell me about it later when you’re feeling up to it, I have your things and Connor’s ready to go.”

“They . . . they revoked the passes,” I managed to say.

“I suspected they might do that.  You’ll just have to live with me.”

There was one more I needed to say, “I’m sorry . . .”

Eva drew me into her arms and kissed my hair, “That was the grief talking, not you.  I know you don’t believe this, but take it from someone who’s been through plenty of shite in her life.  You’ll come out of this stronger. The pain will fade and things will get better. This isn’t the end of your life.”

I looked at our home and felt nothing.  I was too emotionally exhausted to feel regret or sadness in leaving as I had before last night. Like an emotionless marionette, I picked up the suitcases and Eva led the way as she pushed Connor along to her apartment.

 

***

 

After moving in, I spent three miserable days in bed, only rising to use the restroom.  Time passed in phases between sleeping and laying in bed in misery. I needed to go to confession or speak with Father Brian, but I couldn’t get myself up.  Raising my head took more energy than it should and I moved like an elderly person, slow and stiff. Eva brought me meals, but I could only manage a few swallows of water or tea.  My appetite was nonexistent. The food carried no taste and felt rubbery in my mouth.

By the fourth day, Eva threw open the window, letting morning light flare into my darkness accustomed eyes, and told me it was time to get up.  “You’ve had three days to wallow in misery and that’s all I’m going to allow you. I’m going out for today and I expect you to eat breakfast, Connor fed and happy, and the kitchen clean by the time I get back.  There’s a chicken in the fridge for dinner and I invited someone over, so I’ll be home in time to help you cook.”

At first, it was hell to move, but Eva wouldn’t take no for an answer.  She turned on the shower and poke and prodded me until I undressed and I was under the steaming water. I stood under the shower and the water rinse off the foulness of staying in bed for three days straight and some of my depression abated.  I came out almost a different person that I was in bed. I felt cleaner, better, and more lively like the hot water had thawed me out a bit.

Eva was at the stove mixing oatmeal in a saucepan.  She smiled upon seeing me washed and dressed. “I’m fixing you a plate and expect you to eat every bite of it.  Wash the dishes before you get started in the kitchen.”

Then she plopped some oatmeal into a bowl, set it on the table, told me goodbye, and left.  At first, the oatmeal felt like grain in my mouth, but I was determined to eat. I believed it carried no taste like the food from before, but then I realized that it needed more salt.  Eva had never been much of a cook.

With my newfound spirit, I threw myself into chores and my son. I fed Connor and left him to entertain himself in the playpen Eva had set up beneath a window so he could look outside.  I swept, mopped, and waxed the floor. I cleaned out the cabinets and reorganized them. Then I polished the silverware and made sure every dish was clean and put away. I was considering getting started on the living room with a vacuum when Eva came back with a bag of groceries.

“Here, put these away while I change,” Eva said setting the bag on the counter.  “The kitchen looks great, but could you do the windows also?”

As I was cleaning the windows, I noticed the curtains were dirty and could use a wash.  I had them down by the time Eva came out changed in comfortable house clothes and began helping me.  Between the two of us, we were able to clean the whole apartment including the bedroom and bathrooms.

Then I started on dinner while Eva entertained Connor.  By the time Father Brian arrived, I was exhausted and starving.  I ate with such gusto it was almost bad table manners. I noticed Eva beaming at me, very much relieved by my returned appetite.  Afterward, I had confession with Father Brian and the three of us prayed for Devin. By the time he left at the end of dinner, I was better.  Not whole, but no longer in pain.

Eva moved back into her bedroom with me.  She had been sleeping on the couch while I wallowed and the bed was big enough for the two of us.  The pillow and sheets smelled fresh and felt clean to my skin. Eva’s presence was a ward against the depression threatening to pull me under again.  Sharing a bed with her felt like old times when she slept over on weekend nights.

“You did good today,” She whispered, brushing my hair from my face.  “It feels like I moved into a new apartment.”

“Thanks,” I said.  “I mean, thanks for everything.  Not just for the compliment. I . . . I don’t know what I would have done if not for you.”

“You’re my family, Bridget,” she said into my ear, the affection warming me. “You were there for me whenever I fought with mom.  After the whole atheist dating scandal, you were the only one who didn't look at me like I had the plague.”

“Well, you were the coolest girl in school and I wanted to raise my social standing with the others.”

“You little cow.”  Eva teased. She squeezed my hand under the blanket. “You’re going to have good days and bad days, but I’ll be there with you for each one.  Okay?”

“Okay,” I said dismally finally seeing a future with Devin somehow survivable.  “In a few days, I’ll see about getting a job.”

“You don’t have to . . .”

“Yes, I do.  The apartment is clean and I’ll run out of things to do to take my mind off Devin.  Mary’s house isn’t that far away and I can drop off Connor there while I go job hunting.  I have the 250 gac left over so I can pay my way for a while.”

There was no mention of my going to work in the courthouse.  I would rather live in a cardboard box and starve before I took one gac from Takor again.  We didn’t talk about him, he was a name that would not be uttered. It was either ‘him’ or that ‘bastard’  or in Eva’s case, that ‘kat fucker’. The phone rang only once. I suspected he would find out where I was living eventually.  And in case of such a thing, Eva grabbed a pair of scissors, cut the phone cord, opened a window, and threw it out.

The job hunting proved fruitless.  No one wanted to hire who they assumed was a woman with a Galra lover.  And not the rumor was that I had the Galra get rid of my husband so we could be together.  Even though I moved with Eva, everyone believed I was living with Takor. One store clerk even had the audacity to ask me why I was job hunting when my Galra lover could provide for me. I marched out, knocking over a display on my way out.  She wouldn’t try to press charges against whom she assumed had a Galra at their bidding.

The days passed and I dealt with them one at a time. Most were good when I was eager to start the day, but then there were some mornings when I couldn’t get out of bed..  Sometimes I lay awake at night and wonder what Devin was going through. Was he getting enough to eat? Was he hurt? Was he still alive? I fantasize about going to Wicklow to see him, but I doubted they allow conjugal visits in a labor camp.              

I spent the good days keeping house and caring for Connor who sometimes asked for Da with a bright perplexity in his eyes.  I often saw him going from room to room looking for Devin. Though I had recovered from some of my depression, I still couldn’t tell my baby about his father being gone.  I didn’t have the strength for it nor did I believe he would understand. Eventually, Devin would fade from his memory as my mother had from mine after she died. In time, his father would be a face in a picture, or a story I would tell him when was older.

There were pictures of Devin tuck away in an album in the spare bedroom.  It was tempting to look at them, to set one by my bedside, I knew they would only bring unbearable pain. To see his face and remember the little details about him only I knew. The way his hair lie over his ears, how he hunched his shoulders when irritated, how he slept with a forearm above his head like a little boy, and what it was to have sex with him.

A month had passed and my sadness had dwindled to a point where I no longer had bad days, only some bad mornings. I was edging towards that grieving stage of acceptance.  That is until the night when Eva woke me and told me we had to leave Limerick right away.

 

***

 

**Takor**

 

It was almost 1300 hours when his commlink continued an insistent beep waking him from a deep sleep. He sat up, rubbing his eyes while fumbling for the commlink by his bed.  He managed to thumb the accept tab without looking, “Yes?”

“This is Warrant Officer Tayne.  Go to your terminal right now and be ready to receive a call from me on a private channel.”  Then the call ended with a solemn beep.

Takor blinked at the commlink before attaching it to his wrist and moved to his terminal. He considered getting dressed or at least wearing a shirt, but the urgency in Tayne’s voice worried him.  So he only raked his fingers through his head fur, making it lay flat along his crest. He switched the terminal on as he sat down. The call came through as soon as the terminal finished booting. The communication program chimed and a holo-screen rose to his eye level and spread revealing Warrant Officer Tayne.  The CO also just risen from his own bed before making this urgent call. He was wearing a loose shirt and his fur was in tight tangles with his ruined ear laying across his cheek.

Before Takor had a chance to salute or offer a greeting, Tayne launched into a tooth flashing snarl, “Takor, what in all the hells is wrong with you!?”

Takor blinked, “Well, Vrepit Sa to you too, sir.”

Tayne was not amused.  “Remember the native you had arrested last month for the banned firearm?”

Takor managed to keep his ears from twitching.  Oh, yes, he certainly remembered Devin Walsh’s arrest alright.  He nodded, “Yes, a Devin Walsh. What of him?”

“He was working with a rebel cell hidden away in your zone,” Tayne said grimly.

“What?” He leaned forward, his ears tilting backward, but maintained his calm while his heart began pounding faster.  “What do you mean? How do you know?”

“They had an inside man posing as a rebel to flush out sympathizers.  The prat fingered him and the warden had him interrogated. It took a while to break the bastard, they managed to drag it out how he had been mapping out the ruined zones for rebels to come and go in Limerick.” Tayne pointed a gnarled finger at the screen right at Takor’s face through the video transfer, “And it had been happening under your nose!”

He felt the fur rising along his spine and he couldn’t keep his ears upright anymore.  “That’s can’t be right - I saw no sign of rebels . . .”

“That’s because you been too busy chasing after some native bitch!”  Tayne barked, banging a fist on the desktop. The screen static from the sudden jolt from his end, but resumed a clear picture.  “This doesn’t look good for you, kit, and I’m not talking about being unaware of the rebels in your own damn zone.”

“Sir . . .?”  Takor couldn’t imagine how worse it could be.

“I’m talking treason,” Tayne said the word as if it were a curse.

Takor nearly rose from his chair in outrage.  “How!?”

“The bitch you were sniffing around was married to a rebel, you rutting fool.  Think about it, or better yet, I’ll tell you the story that I'm certain the Druids are going to believe.”

At the mention of Druids, Takor’s blood froze.  The Druids, the Emperor inquisitors for traitors and weaknesses within the Empire.  Anyone taken by the Druids rarely returned and those who did were never the same. Even Commanders directly under the Emperor’s command feared the Druids and the High Priestess, or the Witch, whispered in the utmost private settings, who stood by His side and had His ear for her whispers and insinuations.

“Devin Walsh, a secret rebel, sends his wife to seduce a Galra Officer,” Tayne began narrowing his eyes and leaning close to his terminal till his eyes were level with Takors.  "And this fool Officer hires her to work where military docs and orders are sent and received. He also takes her into his office, alone, where he keeps the most sensitive information and even lets her make illegal calls to someone she claims is her father in Liverpool.” Upon seeing Takor flinch, Tayne nodded, his limp ear swinging. “You think those calls went unnoticed? That none of your men wouldn’t notice you flirting with a native or the sentries wouldn’t record her coming and going from your office?  It took me a few vargas to learn all of that, but it will only take the Druids just ticks to learn that and more.”

“I stayed in the room with her while she made those calls.  I listened to every word,” Takor said hotly.

“Simple phrases or idioms or vernaculars have been used to exchange secret messages,” Tayne growled.  “She could have been passing along sensitive information through clever phrasing. Even talk about the weather could contain codes for troop movement or supply routes.”

Takor shook his head, “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then be prepared to argue that case with the Druids,” Tayne said portentously.

Takor sagged in the chair feeling sick with fear.  Maybe he was still asleep and this was just a terrible dream he was having and he would soon wake up. He could imagine his door being unlocked a tall, cloaked figure wearing the dread mask, sweeping in with dark power at its fingertips.  “I’m not a traitor.”

“You could have fooled me,” Tayne growled. “When the Druids catch the scent of this, they’re going to assume you’ve been colluding with rebels for sexual favors.”

Takor’s ears folded to the sides, his lips pulling back into a grimace.  “I never touched her.”

“Do you think they Druids will believe that?”

“By the Lost Mountains of Daizaabul, I swear that’s not what happened.” Takor snarled, raking a claw over the tabletop, leaving shallow grooves along the surface.  “Are you going to help me or are you taking pleasure in watching me squirm?”

“I want you to understand the gravity of the situation so if we do manage to drag your carcass out of the fire, then perhaps you’ll learn not to make the same damn mistakes,” Tayne said as his nostrils flared.  “This is why I forbid my men from fraternizing with native whores. There’s too much what a fool will do when he’s hungry for a rut in the sack.” He leaned forward, his tusks tight against his lower lip. “Tell me everything now.  Don’t hold back a thing because if you don’t bare it all to me, then you will to a Druid. I want to know everything you discussed with her, even it's just about the damn weather.”

So Takor told him everything; from meeting Bridget, letting her off for breaking curfew, offering her the job, her time working with him, and even about the calls to Liverpool. Then he came to the uncomfortable event that was ruined by the Emperor’s Blood, the fight with Devin Walsh, and then the arrest.  He left nothing out, knowing that Tayne was his best chance to elude the Druids’.

Tayne listened to it all, only interrupting here and there for details.  “So you never spoke with her about patrols, security measures, or troop placements.”

“Never.  It was all domestic.  Never any military information.”

“Alright, alright,” Tayne said his brow furrow in deep thought.  “I think we can keep you out of the Druid’s hands, but we have to act fast.  Firstly, you need to arrest Walsh’s wife.”

Takor suck in a sudden breath, “She hasn’t done anything . . .”

“She’s done enough to make a fool out of you,” Tayne barked.  “She’s married to a rebel so she must have had some knowledge of it.  Arresting her will make it out that you took precaution since you now learned her husband was a rebel. It’ll prove that you are a loyal soldier of the Empire and will not allow emotional ties to prevent you in carrying out your duty to the Emperor.   And it’s better to look like a fool than a traitor.”

Takor moaned, rubbing both hands over his ears.  He hadn’t seen or spoke to Bridget since he last saw her in his office. He knew she was living with her friend Eva in one of the apartment buildings and calling was useless as the phone was dead.  There had been hope she would return to work in the archives, but no such luck. “Alright, I’ll send . . .”

“No, you do it.  It’ll look better if you take her in yourself,” Tayne again pointed at him.  “But before you do that, you need to contact the in-laws and accept whatever terms of divorce they want.  This is going to cost you your rank no matter how we spin it.”

“Shit,” Takor moaned.

“If they catch the scent of you losing your rank, they can force the divorce and you’ll get nothing.  That way, when the dust settles, you’ll at least come out of this wealthy.”

“Fine, I’ll send them a message now.  How long do I have before this blows up?”

“I can buy you a quintant, maybe two at most.”

“Fine, I’ll have everything taken care of by then."  Then after considering a moment, Takor asked, “What happened with Devin Walsh?”

“He’s a rebel.  They executed him.”

“I see,” Takor muttered.

He ended the call and drafted a message to his in-laws, telling them he would consent to the divorce.  Then he wrote up a warrant for Bridget Walsh’s arrest. He would allow her to enjoy one more day of freedom before he took it from her.

  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

 

**Bridget**

 

“Bridget, Bridget, wake up.  We have to go.”

I pulled the blanket around me and pressed my face into the pillow, too far in sleeping bliss to be disturbed.  But the voice was persistent and started shaking and pinching me. I rolled over to see Eva’s face inches from mine and with her dark eyes wide with panic.  “Wh-what’s wrong?”

My first thought was the apartment was on fire or that someone had broken in.  Then I saw Eva was already dressed and there was an open suitcase on the edge of the bed near my feet.  When she was certain I wasn’t going back to sleep, she turned to the drawers and began pulling clothes out.  “Dress warm and pack enough clothes to fill only one bag. I’ll go get Connor ready.”

Glancing at the clock I saw it was almost 2:30 in the morning.  “Eva, what’s going on?”

She threw several pairs of jeans into the suitcase, then jerk open the next drawer and began emptying it as well.  “We don’t time for a Q&A. We have to get you out of Limerick.”

“We’re leaving Limerick?”  I rose from the bed, uncertain if I heard her correctly.  

“That’s what I said,” she said and shoved a change of clothes at me.  “Hurry and dress. There’s no time to explain.”

I didn’t care for her attitude, though it was frightening about how she seemed almost in a state of panic.  I’ve never seen her like this before. “Eva, stop, tell me what’s going on!”

“You have too many damn questions that we don’t have time for,” Eva said sharply.

“Then give me the short of it!”  I rejoined. “You can’t wake me at an ungodly hour and tell me we have to leave Limerick without telling me why.”  

Eva slammed a drawer shut loud enough to wake up Connor who began whimpering from his crib.  I dropped the clothes and stumbled off the bed to picked him up. Making soft comforting sounds and patting his back calmed him.  He laid his head on my shoulder with a thumb in his mouth. With him settled on my hip, I turned to Eva, waiting expectantly, my maternal side piqued that she should disturb my child with no explanation.     

She threw up her hands, giving up.  “Alright, but so help me, if you keep standing there like a twit, I’ll knock you unconscious and drag you out of here with Connor tied to my back.  The Galra found out that Devin has been helping me and the rebels and they are coming here to arrest you.”

I stared in profound shock.  A question bubbled up to the surface, but Eva thrust a finger at me, “Bridget, get dress.  Now.”

 

***

 

Eva went ahead to make sure it was clear before motioning for me to follow.  I hurried forward with Connor bundled in a provisional sling across my back. He was still sleeping and, hopefully, would remain so for a few hours more.  His head rested between my shoulder blades, close to where the bag straps crisscrossed.

We were going like this since we left the apartment building.  She would go ahead by a block, then double back to give summon me over.  Sometimes she would come back and had us go a different direction or wait in an alley, ducked behind a dumpster or old boxes.  

“We need to cover as much ground as we can before they realize we did a runner,” she whispered and motioned me along.  “But we have to be careful of drones.”

“Drones?”  I was bobbing, encouraging Connor to keep sleeping when I felt him rub his face into my back.  

“Small little flying robots that see everything and report to HQ.”  Eva leaned against a brick wall to rest a moment. Instead of her usual heels, she had chosen to wear flat footed soft felt boots.  They barely made any noise on the damp pavement. I couldn’t tell whether she wore them for stealth or they would make durable running footwear.  “They have a cloaking program that lets them go invisible, but sometimes, if you’re watchful, you can see a shimmer. That’s when you need to run like hell because they’re already sending footage of you to the kats.”

I shivered and glanced at the cloudy sky that did not offer us any moonlight to see by.  Street lamps provided light on the streets, but we had to rely on our night vision to weave through alleys.  With the strict curfew, we didn't fear walking into any muggers or miscreants. We had enough to worry about with the sentry and Galra patrols.  

“Did you learn of drones from the rebels?”  I asked, unable to hide the sullen undertone.

Eva shot me a hard look.  “Yes, I did. Most of it in France.”

“Is that why you know so much about what’s going on in the world?  Your rebel friends tell you?”

Eva shook her head, “I can’t answer that, Bridget.”

“Because we have no time for questions?”  I sighed, irritated.

“No,” she said, her eyes locking with mine.  “Because the less you know, the less you can give up if they should get the chance to interrogate you.”

Not even Connor’s warm body could stop the chill from slipping down my spine.  “How much further?”

“I can’t be sure.  If we could walk straight there ten minutes, but since we have to dance around the patrols and drones, could be another hour. 

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.  Now let’s get moving. We stayed in one place long enough.”

 

***

 

**Takor**

 

He had a plan.  A perfect plan that would have saved him from the Druids and Bridget from a firing squad.  The first step was to arrest her, simple enough, or should have been. He went to the apartment where she had been living with Eva Hayes.  When he arrived he found the apartment empty. Drawers and closet doors were open with clothes littering the floor as if they packed and left in a hurry.

How long ago did they leave?  How much of a headstart did they get?  And how in the hells did they know he was coming?  

He never believed Bridget to knowingly have ties with rebels, but even he couldn’t deny how bad this looked.  First Devin confesses to working with rebels and now his wife was on the run. One’s an incident, two’s a coincidence, and with their close Eva on the run too, that would make it three’s a pattern.

“Alert all patrols to be on the hunt for two females and an infant,” he told the sentry as he took the stairs down, two at a time.  “Upload these profiles onto the security network: Bridget Walsh and Eva Hayes. Send the order they are to be arrested, unharmed if possible.  Notify me as soon as they are spotted.”

He threw himself into the patrol car and ordered the sentry to round the block.  Maybe they haven’t gotten too far ahead before he had found them missing.

 

***

 

**Bridget**

 

“Oh yes,” Eva sighed as distant sirens began echoing off distant buildings.  “They’re looking for us now.”

The purplish hue span in across the night sky, glinting off windows and street lamps.  How far away were they? Several miles or a few blocks? “Are we almost there?”

“We’re there,”  Eva said pointing at a rusty garage door across the street.  “Wait here and stay out of sight. They’re going to be pretty shook from the alarms.”

I ducked behind a dumpster and watched Eva trot across the street, her long dark hair swaying down her back.  She knocked several times on the door and waited, her boots tapping on the pavement. I held my breath checked the streets and sky for any groundcars, sentries, and drones.  There was a metallic rattle as the garage door was raised barely half a foot off from the pavement.

Eva reached into her side pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper.  Bending down she held it beneath the door where a large human hand with dirty nails took it from her.  After a few moments, there was a dull knock on the metal door from the inside and Eva motioned me over.  I hurried over as the garage was going up with a reluctant screech. Eva bent low and scooted beneath the door as soon it was high enough.  I waited a bit until it there was enough room for me to stoop under it without bumping Connor on the door. We emerged into a dark, freezing garage.  I could hear the shuffle of feet on the concrete floor and distant voices whispering in rough soughs.

“We . . . . too dangerous . . . .Galra . . . .”

Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see a large grizzled man speaking in hush voice with Eva.  His hair and beard were black peppered with white. His thick arms roped with coarse hair and muscles hung out through a dirty white shirt and overalls.  From the way he stood with his back straight and carried himself, I suspected he may have a military history.

The garage door rattled again as it was pushed down by a younger man, possibly the grizzled man’s son, who shared the same stout figure.  He gave me a friendly grin and motioned for me to follow him around some dismantled cars to a back room. I glanced at Eva who was still speaking with the taller man.  She waved at me, which was reassuring, but did nothing to ease the desperate line of questions I had brewing.

The young man opened the door to an old office.  It was in a state as the wastebasket was overflowing, a desk was covered in a mountain of papers and receipts.  The screen of an older computer peeked through, and sitting on an old moth-eaten couch was a family of four.

A man wearing wrinkled house clothes and worn loafers rose from the couch and let loose a stream of fluent French at the young man.   _“Combien de temps faut-il attendre? Ma famille a peur et est fatiguée.”_

The young man held up his hands in the usual defensive, ‘I have no idea what you’re saying’ stance.  “Sorry, my Dad is in the next room. He will speak with you in a second . . .”

“He wants to know how much longer he’ll have to wait,” I offered.  “He said his family is scared and tired.”

A pair of blue eyes stared at me in bewilderment, “You speak French?”

I nodded, “Yes.  I can tell him whatever you need to say.”

Suddenly, he looked at me as if I was the Virgin Mary, a godsend to a language barrier he had been suffering.  “Yes, please, tell him that it won’t be much longer.”

I told the Frenchman who gave me a similar reverent look.  Then replied, _“S'il vous plaît, dites à l'homme de se dépêcher, nous avons attendu de nombreuses heures.”_

I turned to the young man, “He says they have been waiting for hours so he wants you to hurry.”

He nodded to the Frenchman with a friendly smile and looked as if he wanted to hug me.  “You have no idea the hell I have been going through to keep him calm. Dad knows some French, but not enough.”

“It’s no problem.  I’ve worked in a restaurant where I had to help French people with their order,” I offered my hand, “I’m Bri . . .”

“Sorry, no names!”  The young man’s hands waved at me as if he were warding off an angry bee.  “Just call me Little Tom and my dad is Big Tom.”

I lowered my hand, “I take it those aren’t really your names.”

Little Tom shrugged, “They are tonight.  Have a seat with the family and we’ll let you know what the plan is when we’re ready.”

I touched his arm to keep him from leaving, “Can you tell  me what this is . . .”

“Sorry, ma’am, I hate not being able to help you since you just helped me out loads with the French, but I cannot tell you anything more than what you’ve been told by your friend.”

Then he politely said goodbye and left me to my own devices.  The Frenchman's wife was a petite woman with blonde hanging in loose curls at her shoulders.  She was at least ten or fifteen years younger than her husband, but quite a few years older than me.  She had a small girl bundled in her arms with a young girl, possibly four or five years old sitting beside her.  The girl was bored, swinging her legs, the polished black school shoes catching the low light. She was watching me intrigued as I must be the most interesting thing to have happened in a long time.

 _“Pourquoi as-tu un bébé sur le dos?”_ she asked, wriggling to the edge of her seat as if she would stand.  

Her mother gentle shushed her and nudged her to sit back.   _“Calme, mon petit poulet.”_

My little chicken?

As I sat down and chatted with the girl.  I learned it was her family’s pet name for her because she could chatter on and on, like a clucking chicken.  She spoke animatedly about her school, how they would watch the sentries patrol along the street from the cafeteria, learning about Galra history, and how she wondered what a Galra baby looked like.  Her mother kept gently shushing her and giving me apologetic looks.

“So sorry,” she said in French, “once she starts, it’s like a dam breaking.  All her words come gushing out.”

I shook my head, appreciating having the company.  “It’s alright, but where do you come from?”

“We came down from Galway,” the woman said softly, clutching her baby to her breast.  “We barely made it down here. Others in our group were caught and arrested.”

I stared, “What happened?”

Then it was the woman’s turn to look at me uncertainty.  “What you mean? We escaped Galway with a group of ten. It was us and two others who make it to Limerick.  Tonight, God willing, we will be on our way to France.”

 

***

 

**Eva**

 

Big Tom smelled of grease and microwaved food, but that didn’t diminish the professionalism that outlined his every action.  He was one of the few straight men who always spoke to her face and only to her face throughout a conversation. If he looked at any part of her that wasn’t her face, it was because there was blood on it or had a weapon.  

“I don’t like leaving when they’re on high alert like this,” he said in a deep voice.  “It’s surprising you weren’t arrested on the street.”

“We got out in time thanks to a tip.”  Eva brushed the hair from her face, a nervous tic when she thought of all the close calls they had.  She kept them from Bridget lest she went into the panic on the way. “Now is a good time to go. There will be plenty of groundcars on the roads.”

“My gut is telling me to lay low and wait.  We have enough supplies to last us a couple of days . . .”

“Trust me on this,”  Eva said with her hands on her hips.  “They won’t stop looking for us for a long while.  Now’s the time to go while they’re trying to pull their pants up.”

Big Tom crossed his arms, which reminded Eva of two huge boulders lying atop of each other.  “Interesting image. Here’s another question. I can understand why the Bernards are so important; he’s a doctor and she’s a registered nurse and their kids are a packaged deal.  What about the redhead? What’s her value?”

“She’s just proved her worth by helping with the Bernards.  She’s an amazing linguist. She can fluently speak English, French, Italian, Irish-Gaelic, and German,” Eva said counting off on each finger.  “What she doesn’t know she can pick up fast. She’ll be crucial in liaisons with networks across Europe.”

Bridget’s was top of her class in French and Latin and not to mention that she sailed through her Gaelic courses.  Then by ear, she picked up Italian from her boss and had a smattering of German from some German tourists. When Bridget studied a language, she soaked it up like a sponge and foreign words would flow from her with near correct pronunciation with very little practice.  Sometimes, it was like magic.

When Eva and Bridget were in their final year of private school, they had gone shopping for winter clothes.  At the shopping mall, they overheard a man from Portugal arguing with a security guard. The man had been trying to take his small son into the women’s restroom, but the security guard kept blocking him and pointing at the men’s restroom.

“Sir, you can’t go in there.  It’s the women’s. The men’s is right over there.”  The security guard said loudly, in the fashion that speaking loud enough could overcome the language barrier.

The Portuguese man was getting flustered and he too was speaking loudly, _“Eu tenho que mudar a fralda do meu filho!”_

The son was beginning to squirming, adding his fussing to the growing conflict.  This had been going on for nearly ten minutes until Bridget stopped browsing and headed over to the engaged men before Eva could stop her.

“Sir,” she said politely, “he wants to use the changing table in the women’s restroom.”  

The security guard looked as if he could pass out from relief.  “Then tell him that there’s a changing table in the men’s restroom he can use.”

Bridget turned to the man and said in slow, careful Portuguese, _“O banheiro masculino tem uma mesa de troca, senhor.”_

The father was grateful, kissing Bridget on the cheek before hurrying into the men’s.  The security guard shook Bridget’s hand and thanked her, even jokingly offering her a job in the mall’s customer service.  Bridget returned to browsing with Eva and seemed to have forgotten the exchange as if she simply gave directions. But it stayed with Eva who asked Bridget about it during lunch in the food court.

“Hey, how’d you do that?”  Eva asked over a slice of greasy pizza her mother would strangle her for eating.  “I didn’t know you knew Portuguese.”

“I don’t,”  Bridget said sprinkling parmesan on her pizza.  

“But you did with that guy and his kid,” Eva pressed.  “How do you do it? You blew our French teacher away back in first year when you literally help her teach the class and our Latin teacher let you use his class as study period before the end of the semester early, not to mention you saved your dad money on Gaelic lessons when you finished the course halfway.”

Bridget shrugged, “I don’t know.  It just comes to me.”

“How so?”  Eva asked interestedly.  “Like what happened back there with the Portuguese guy?”

“At first I didn’t understand him at all,” Bridget said.  She took a bite of her pizza and chewed thoroughly, thinking.  “Then I listened to him speak and he kept motioning at his son and pointing at the bathroom, it just . . . I don’t know . . .formed in my head what he was trying to say.”

“You should live in Dublin and be a translator for diplomats,” Eva said.

No, Bridget didn’t want to work in politics or work for politicians.  She wanted to become a teacher.

 

***

 

**Bridget**

 

Connor awakened to the admiration of Adeline Bernard who chattered away at him and tried to entice him to play with her.  Unfortunately, he was in no mood for play and shifted irritably on my lap, wanting to walk around. I wouldn’t set him down, afraid that the moment I let him out of my arms would be the second we would need to flee Galra.    

Eva and Big Tom came inside followed by Little Tom who carried a small leather case in hand.  The Bernards sat up. The mother, Beatrice Bernard, shifted the baby on her chest, her eyes bright with anxiety.   

“Bridget, we’re going to need you to translate for the Bernards.  You probably speak better French than them,” Eva wheedle, knowing I was still angry.

“Alright, I’ll translate,” I sighed, rising to my feet and set Connor on my hip.  He wailed angrily, kicking his legs. I jiggled him, placating him enough for me to concentrate.

Big Tom gave me a surveying look and then addressed the room as a whole.  “Before we share the details of how we’re getting you out of Limerick,” he paused to give me a chance to translate, “we must do something you're going to find unpleasant.  We’re going to sedate your children,” he stopped when he noticed me staring at him. I quickly resumed translating and both of the Bernards’ eyes widen.

 “It is a necessary precaution,” Big Tom continued, “and non-negotiable.  We’ve lost people because they couldn’t keep their children quiet and still.  If you refuse to let us drug them, then you will be left behind in Limerick. I don’t want to sound unsympathetic, but my people are risking a lot to get you off the island.  The least you can do is help them by reducing an already great risk.”

The Bernards exchanged a few words.  Beatrice was worried the drugs would hurt her children and I shared the same concern.  I asked him what drug he was going to use.

“Benadryl,” Big Tom replied.  “We’ve sorted out the dosages per their sizes and ages.  It’ll guarantee they’ll sleep for most of the night, at least until we’re at the next safe house.”

Dr. Bernard listened carefully as I translated and nodded, agreeing to the terms.  He reassured his wife, telling her that it was a sound rule and how their daughter, Harriet, cries at night a lot.  It was reassuring to hear a medical doctor agreeing to the plan, but I still didn’t care for it.

Little Tom opened the case and took out a medicine bottle and dropper.  He measured out the dose for the infant and dribble it into her mouth and then came over to Connor with his dose.  I consented to have my son being drugged and swallowing back my feelings of being a ‘bad mother’. Adeline outright refused the medicine, shaking her head and declaring she didn’t want yucky medicine.  After getting her rear swatted, she stood still sullen and opened her mouth for the drug. Within twenty minutes, all three children were asleep in their parents' arms.

Then Big Tom motion for us to follow him.  Through the main garage, there was a side door that led into another part of the building.  This room was pitch blade as the windows were painted over. The smell of grease and oil was strong and pungent, nearly making my eyes water.  A light flicked on, throwing light over the vehicle in the center. It was a Galra patrol car, pristine and undamaged.

 _“Mon Dieu!”_  Dr. Bernard gasped.  

“That’s right,” Big Tom said seeing our questioning expressions.  “You’re looking at your ride out of here.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

**Bridget**

 

“You can stop burning a hole in my head with your eyes,” Eva said.

She looked for all the world like a little girl trying to drive a large car. They had to stack cushions on the seat for her to see over the steering wheel as the car had was meant to be driven by a Galra who stood over 7 to 8 feet. Thankfully, speed wasn’t controlled by floor pedals or else she’d be wearing blocks on her boots like those cartoons when a short character had to drive.

I had been glaring at her for the past hour between the bouts of fright as we passed other ground cars and sentries patrolling the streets.  The Bernards whispered together held their children tightly. Adeline’s head lolled on her father’s shoulder, her cherubs parted with a small drip of drool at the corner of her mouth.  Harriet slept like a bundled angel in her mother’s arms, her tiny lashes fluttering from a dream.

We bundled the children as warmly as we could in the blankets the Toms provided. The groundcar had no AC or heater as all functions had been removed save for driving and even that had to be inducted through human technology as most of the Galra tech only recognized and operate per their DNA. It was a sign of the mechanic’s skill to strip an alien vehicle down, restore it to look as good as new and still work for human hands.

“This vehicle should pass as one of theirs visually, but don’t count on it for checkpoints,” Big Tom told us as we gawk at the groundcar.  “You can see why it was imperative we drug your children. A sentry will detect the sounds of a crying child and that will be very bad.” He let his silence weigh heavily on us before continuing.

“Your driver will be this woman,” he indicated Eva who nodded to the Bernards and avoided my questioning look as I translated.  “If all goes according to plan, you’ll drive out of Limerick with none of them the wiser. All you have to do,” and he gave the Bernards and me a severe authoritarian look, “is stay quiet and let her concentrate. She has to follow routes and pay attention to any orders or directives given by their bosses so she can avoid suspicion.  Just sit still and quiet and she’ll get you out of Limerick.”

Bernard asked a question and I relayed it, “He wants to know where our next stop will be.”

Big Tom shook his head, “That’s need to know only.  You’ll know when you get there.”

Bernard asked another question and after I relayed that, Big Tom furrowed his brows.  “No, we will not be giving you guns. If everything goes according to plan, then you won’t need them.  If it does go wrong, then they won’t be any help at all.”

Two hours later, we were taking the most nerve-wracking drive of our lives.  Not since Devin and I had fled Limerick during the first days of the invasion had I felt so much anxiety in a car.  Or maybe . . .since I first accepted a ride from Takor.

“We need to talk,”  I whispered to Eva a few hours later.

“I know,” Eva hissed back checking the messages on the dashboard.  The Toms were giving her directions on where to go to avoid being seen as a patrol car out of place and what areas to avoid.  “I promise, once we’re on the road out of Limerick, I’ll give you the chance to bitch me out later.”

“I want to know one thing . . .”  I whispered. “Yes or no, was Devin working with the rebels?”

Eva was silent for a long time.  When I thought she was ignoring me, she sighed, “Yes.”

I swallowed and drew a deep breath.  “How long?”

Again, there was a long silence.  “Shortly after I came back to Limerick.”

I closed my eyes.  “So for the past year, my husband has been a rebel.  My husband and my best friend have been lying to my face for nearly a year.”

“We haven’t been lying,” Eva said.  “You never asked us if we were rebels . . .”

“Oh, don’t play that game with me,” I snapped.  “That might have cut it when we were children. You were the one who recruited him, weren’t you?”

Eva turned, fixing her dark gaze on me fully, “Bridget, I swear to you, I’ll tell you everything once we’re outside of Limerick.  Right now, I have to concentrate on what I’m doing.”

“Fine,” I said bitterly, pushing aside the anger.

I lean back in the seat and tried not to think about what could happen if we were discovered.  I pushed back my anger, telling myself I could vent later and hoped there was a later.

 

**Takor**

 

As the more time passed, the more anxious he became.  He was gnashing his teeth and barking orders both soldiers and sentries. All patrol ground cars and sentries reported at regular intervals, but there had been no sightings of the two women.  Not even the drones have taken notice of anyone outside of their doors. Two women and an infant couldn’t just disappear, at least, not without some help. 

Where would they go?  Beverly was living with Yevin now and he would report if any humans appeared on their doorstep in the night.  Yet, Takor didn’t believe Bridget would go to Beverly as they had some sort of falling out after she had quit her job.  Bridget had no other close friends other than Hayes and no other family living in Limerick.

If she escaped. . .eluded him . . .then it was all over for him, and he wasn’t thinking only of his career.  He remembered seeing someone taken by the Druids and it was the most pathetic sight. The poor fool babbled incessantly, his ears drooped and eyes watering as he stammered excuses, pleas, and lies as the sentries took him away under the dark gaze of a tall figure in a long dark cloak and an eerie white mask.  Would he be like that when they came for him? So out of his mind with terror?

Fueled by desperation, he pulled up a holo-map of the city and marked off zones he was certain she wouldn’t be.  Not across the river and the market was guarded at night, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t go there. No, Bridget was a smart cautious person; she’d only go somewhere she would be safe.

Flicking an ear in irritation, he forced himself to think over the facts again.  He could be approaching the problem from the wrong angle. Bridget, he was certain, was not a rebel.  She wasn’t daring or defiant and would never do anything to bring harm to her family. She was sweet, warm, moral, and loving.  It wouldn’t be possible for her to be around him without some trace of shame in her soulful eyes.

So if she had no knowledge of her husband being a rebel, then how was she warned and where did she go?

Eva Hayes, Bridget’s childhood and best friend. Of course, how foolish, he had been so focused on Bridget, he only considered where  _ she  _ would go, not where  _ Hayes  _ would have fled.  Bridget trusted Eva Hayes and where she went, Bridget would have gone too.    

What did he know about Hayes other than where she lived here? Not much, but he had seen her a few times in the courthouse, sometimes to visit Bridget and to flirt with Clark Marston on the stairs . . .in private . . .

A sliver of fear dripped into his belly.  Oh, these humans were as clever as Viisia rodents

He ordered Clark Marston’s arrest.  Time was running out. Tayne had given him enough time to arrest Bridget, but now he was rooting out an entire rebel cell in his own zone.  One that had been working in his own building and Marston had access to all sorts of Galra information. What about the other two? What about Beverly? She may have given birth to a half-breed, but what better cover than to be in a relationship with a Galra and give birth to his kit?

He ordered an arrest for all of them.

 

 

**Bridget**

 

It was too easy.  Something should have gone wrong by now.  These thoughts went through my head as we waited for the sirens to go off.  I could imagine our groundcar surrounded on all sides by Galra with guns. Yet, everything was still going smoothly. 

There was a heart-stopping moment when a Galra looked in our direction.  The groundcar’s windows were tinted, hiding us from view, but we all froze as if he see through window at us.  Then he turned his attention back to the street ahead and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Eva didn’t relax, her body taut with tension.

“He noticed something was off,” Eva whispered.

“He might have been wishing he was riding around inside a squad car and out of the cold,” I suggested.

“Maybe, but I don’t like it,” Her fingers squeezed the wheel so tight the knuckles were white, “Alright, we’re almost there.”

“But we’re too far from the highway . . .”

Eva gave me a sardonic grin, “We’re not taking the highway.”

 

***

 

The social club had several open fields for sports making me nervous as we’ll be too easily seen.  As if sharing the same fear, Eva sped up, rocking us back in our seats and the children slept on. I scanned the sky for any movement or telltale shimmers.  The city slowly fell behind us as the road became a gravel path meant for carts or jogging. When we reached the end of the path, the tires trundled off the gravel and onto the grass. The stabilizers kept us from rocking back and forth, but we still felt the tires rolling over uneven ground.         

“We’re almost there,” Eva breathed, leaning forward so far her chin nearly bumped the steering wheel.  

I held onto the side door with one hand and held Connor against me with the other.  The bumps were jarring and clenched my mouth closed, fearful I would bite my tongue at a sudden drop.  Eve had turned the headlights off long before we arrived at the club. Now it was impossible to see without the city lights.  The ground crawled before us and we could see a bump a second before we were tossed.

“We’re almost there,” Eva whispered again, her voice tinged with anxiety.  “Not much longer.”

Now would be a bad time for us get chased as Eva couldn’t see where she was going and would send us up a tree.  We were at the most dangerous part of the journey. No ground cars came out this far and it would draw suspicion if seen.  Thank God it wasn’t raining or else we would really be driving blind.

Then, the wheels finally found smooth asphalt and the car coasted along a paved road.  Well outside of Limerick.

The Bernards celebrated in the back.  Dr. Bernard cheered and Beatrice praised God.  I sent up a silent thank you to the Lord and melted in the seat, the tension leaving my body.

“Don’t relax yet,” Eva said, her eyes still on the road ahead and her hands still gripping the steering wheel tight.  “We’re not out of the woods. They could still see this car and wonder why its all the way out here. If they try to hail us and since we have no way of replying, they’ll send a skycraft to investigate.”

I sighed, “You could have let us enjoy a moment of not being afraid.”

“I don’t want your guard down nor the Bernards,” she said taking a quick glance at the sky.  “Tell them to keep their eyes peeled for any shimmers or lights. We have another hour of driving before we reach our destination.”

“We still need to talk,” I declared, not letting her distract me.

“Alright, we can talk while keeping an eye out,”  Eva said derisively. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” I said dryly.

“Fine.  I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

“Okay,” I said stiffly.

Eva reached into her pocket and drew a packet of cigarettes from her coat.  Tapping the bottom of the steering wheel produced a stick which she took between her lips.  After tucking the packet back into the same pocket, she produced a lighter. The flame flared as she lit her smoke and it disappeared into the depths of her pocket too.

She drew a deep pull on the cigarette before she began speaking through a haze of smoke, “I went to the cottage in Italy.  Remember, I told you about it.”

“Yes, I remember,” I said thinking back to the pool party, Eva’s last ‘hurrah’ before the invasion.  That been nearly a year ago, but it felt like a lifetime ago in a different world.

“I stayed there during the war, listening in to the newscasts until they went dead.  Then the radio came back on, blaring their propaganda bullshite about the Empire. Not having anything better to do, I went to Rome.”

Eva flicked ash through the window she cracked for the smoke.  “You know me, I can’t help but hang out with a crowd that defied authority.  It was a small resistance group. Like a gang, but instead of smashing windows or mugging people, we actually helped them.  People needed food, we knocked over a supply truck and handed out what we grabbed. Some arsehole gouged the rent for poor human workers, we taught him a lesson with fists and sticks.  If somebody ended up on the kats’ radar, we help them go into hiding until we got them out of Rome.”

“So how do you go from being a being a vigilante to a rebel?”  I asked. Though interested in how Eva got herself involved with rebels, I wanted to push the story along to Devin’s involvement.  “How did you approach them?”

“The rebels approached us,” Eva replied ruefully.  “They had been watching us operate and wanted us to join them. They’re trying to build a network and increase their numbers by recruiting small resistance groups across Europe like ours.  It’s growing every day as more and more people are joining up. I was sent to first France to aid the resistance there and then to Limerick to help smuggle people out of Ireland.”

“And how did Devin come into it?”   

Eva sighed, taking a long drag on her cigarette with eyes staring distantly at the road ahead. “I didn’t want to get him involved, but we needed someone who could route a path through the ruined sectors so we could smuggle people and supplies in and out of Limerick.  He was the only one I could trust and he was eager to join, but he had two conditions though. We would smuggle the three of you out of Ireland and you were not to be told at all.”

“Why?”  I demanded.

“He didn’t want you to worry and back then we feared you had a blind spot for Galra because of Takor.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a wave of pain and regret wash over me.  “And why didn’t you . . .”

“Tell you after Devin was arrested?  You were a train wreck and I didn’t want to heap more misery on top of you.  Then you were up and about, recovering, and I didn’t want to send you into a relapse.  There was no need to say anything until I got the word they were going to arrest you.”

“How did you get word they were coming to arrest me?”

Eva shifted, reaching into her pocket again, but this time drawing out an old flip cell phone.  It was cracked along the side and was painted a dull red with chipped paint. “I got a call.”

“Do those still work?”

“Yes, these antiques can go undetected while piggybacking on signals through Galra communications.  The only show up as short pulses in the data that goes ignored, but the calls have to be very short or else they get noticed.  We only use them for emergencies.” Eva slipped the phone back into her pocket.

Then came the question I really didn’t want to ask, but I had known the answer.  “And . . . how did the Galra find out about Devin being a rebel . . .?”

Eva shifted uncomfortably on the cushions.  “I’m not sure, but I can make some guesses. If they know he’s a rebel . . . he’s likely dead.”

I turned away, staring out the window, and I said no more for a long time.

 

***

 

The bright morning light shining on my eyes woke me hours later.  Connor was whimpering in my ear and I could smell he was serious need of a nappy change.  There were some in the backseat with the Bernards who were sleeping with their children. Dr. Bernard was snoring thunderously with the side of his face flat against the window.  Eva was awake, still smoking, with the window rolled all the way down. 

We had stopped for the night in a grove across the road from an old gas station.  The windows were broken and boarded up. Litter and broken grates hedged the edges of the building.  A broken sign that once indicated the bathrooms, swung on a single chain. Eva parked the car and handed out water bottles and meal bars.  She said we would stay here for the night until the others arrived.

“I need to change Connor’s nappy,” I said to Eva, hoping I could change him outside the car and not on my lap.

Eva wrinkled her nose and as if reading my meaning, she said, “Sure, you can change him outside.”

“Will it be safe?”  I asked, glancing around outside.

“It’s safe enough,” Eva said, rubbing the bridge of her nose.  “Wake Beatrice up too. I think her daughter needs a change too.”

I woke up Beatrice and we both took changed our babies on the hood of the car. Connor wriggled and kicked while Beatrice’s daughter wailed in fury at being denied proper hygiene for so long.  After changing, we spent long minutes soothing them. Eventually, Dr. Bernard and Adeline got out to stretch their legs and relieve themselves in the bushes. Beatrice watched Connor while I took a turn behind some bushes. Even Eva got out to enjoy the morning air, grinding out a cigarette on the ground and offering one to Dr. Bernard who turned it down with a rueful,

_ “Peut-être que si j'avais vingt ans de moins. . .” _

Adeline was muttering French to Connor whom she led by the hand, taking slow steps to match his short toddling ones.  She was trying to teach him a French nursery rhyme when we heard the engine of an approaching car. I scooped up Connor and led Adeline by the hand back to her parents.  We crammed into the car, shushing our children when they complained. Connor was the most outspoken, having enjoyed his outing and insisting on going out again. I tried to occupy him with a toy but refused to be placated.

Eva didn’t seem afraid, but she was anxious, her eyes on the road.  A large black van drove down the street, turning into the gas station parking lot.  Eva sighed in relief, “They’re here.”

“Who are they?”  I asked.

“Other people wanting off this island . . .oh . . .my . . .God . . .”  Her eyes went wide, an unlit cigarette fell from her parting lips.

I followed her eyes to the van.  The back had opened and Devin, my supposedly late husband, was stepping out into the morning light.     

  
  
  



	23. Chapter 23

**Bridget**

 

My body moved of its own volition.  I threw open the car door and my feet pounded the asphalt, carrying us across the road to Devin.  His mouth opened in a strangled cry and his eyes brimmed with tears as I threw us into his open arms.  He held us both so tight, switching between kissing me and Connor’s head. I passed our son into his arms and he hugged him tightly.  It freed my arms to wrap around his waist.

 

I would never let him go.  I had lived one month without him and I refused to live one second apart from him.  Drawing back, I could see the lines in his face that hadn’t been there before. He looked ten years older since I last saw him staring in bewilderment at his father’s corpse.  He was wearing a full black bodysuit made of a strong material which felt like thick muslin fabric. A dark purple tatter shirt hung off his now leaner frame. The suit left his hands bare and, to my dismay, they were covered in scratches and cuts with a few nails missing or mangled.

 

“I thought you were dead,” I whispered, tears forming twin lines down my cheeks.  “They - they said the Galra killed you . . .”

 

“They tried to kill me,” Devin croaked in a rough voice, tinged with a distant sob.

 

“Da!”  Connor piped up, realizing the man holding and kissing him was his father.  He tugged at the purple cloth, mumbling happily, a bright smile showed off his few baby teeth.

 

A sudden surge of anger made me thump a fist on his chest, “You should have told me!  About the rebels, about helping Eva, about - about everything!”

 

“I know.  I’m sorry.”  I never heard him sound so miserable before.

 

I was too happy to stay mad at him for long.  I grasped him by the hair and pulled him down to meet my mouth. The kiss was so hard and needful enough to tell me that if our son wasn’t with us and strangers weren't around, we would be making love right there on the side of the road in the grass. People applauded us as we recovered ourselves and stepped back and held hands.

 

An old woman was stepping down from the back of the van wearing denim overalls and gray hair tied up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck.  She beamed at us with the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen.

 

“I’m happy to see you found your wife,” the woman said with a nod to Devin.  She spoke near perfect English with a bit of a Swedish accent. “Now let’s all go inside before we are seen.”

 

Several people got out of the van, some of them carrying sleeping children.  The woman pulled open the front door of the gas station and motioned us all inside.  Still holding hands, Devin and I went in together. My head was, yet again, brimming with questions, but over it, all was exuberant of having my husband back.

 

Among us were two men holding their six-year-old daughter and a woman cradling a three-year-old boy with her teenage son standing at her elbow.  In the corner was a tearful young woman dabbing at her eyes with a cloth. We were all being led into the back room of the gas station, following the old woman with bright blue eyes. The back room was set up with cots and blankets with some food provided in a cooler.

 

“Pick a cot, people, and get comfortable.  You’re going to be here for a while,” the old woman said waving us inside.  “There’s a closet big enough to change clothes if you wish and a washroom if you want to bathe.  We’ll have a meal ready in a couple of hours and there are bottles of water if you’re thirsty.”

 

Devin sank down onto the nearest mattress and I sat close beside him, sliding my arm around his waist.  Connor squirmed on our laps wanting down. Devin set him on the floor but held onto the back of his pajamas to keep him from wandering off.  I couldn’t get enough of him, taking his face between my hands and tracing the thumbs over his cheekbones. “You’re an answered prayer.”

 

“You’re a dream,” he said pressing his brow to mine.  “I thought of you so much in that hell. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone and I’ll still be back there.”

 

“You’re not going back there,” I promised him.  “Not without me - ”

 

“Bridge, you wouldn’t say that if you knew what it was like . . .”  he looked away, his eyes going dark, haunted. “The labor camps are little better than concentration camps.  They only give us enough food to stay alive and very little water. The overseers had these electric whips that’ll make you wish it would kill you on the first strike. I’ve endured a beating with a belt, but these whips don’t only bruise the flesh, they affect the nerves.  It's like your body is raw with pain. I saw an old man die of heart failure after getting hit twice by one of those things.”

 

I squeezed his hand, reminding him that he wasn’t there anymore. His eyes were still looking away, back into that hell he had escaped.  “Remember that family who took the cabin from us?” He said, “The arsehole father with the gun? He had two sons, a boy, and a teenager?”

 

I nodded.  “Yes, most of them died when the Galra shot the cabin, but we never knew happened to the other lad.”

 

Devin rubbed his face as he wanted to wash himself of the memories.  “I saw him . . .he’s been in that labor camp since the start of the war.  He’s not a person anymore. He’s been beaten by overseers, used by other slaves, starved, and worked to death for every waking second.  He’s a damn drone. He doesn’t speak, I don’t think he could hear anymore. He’s just body waiting to die.” There was a haunted look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before the arrest.  Pain and loss swept me as I realized that a piece of Devin died in that labor camp and I would never get that part of him back. He placed his torn hands on my shoulders and stared into my face with reverence, “I love you so much . . .too much to want you to suffer in a labor camp.”

 

Connor was trying to crawl away between our feet.  I pulled him back and plopped him on my knees and began bouncing him.  He was entertained for only a moment before squirming to get down again.  I checked the bottom of his pajama feet and grimaced at how dirty they were.  A ‘bad mother’ feeling prompted me to want to give him a bath and change his clothes. I asked Devin if he wanted to come with me.  I didn’t want to be apart from him and it would give us a chance to speak without an audience.

 

People were staring in awe at Devin, a man who had escaped from a labor camp.  The teenager was staring with near hero worship and the two men whispered to each other as we passed them.  Devin ignored them, his attention solely for Connor and me as we walked into the washroom.

 

The sinks were deep, meant for washing large pots and pans from a restaurant.  The water nozzles detached from hooks set in the wall and the water pressure was adjusted with a knob on the side.  I shucked the pajamas off Connor and set him in the tub that was nearly shoulder height for him.

 

He padded back and forth, his soft feet making metal thuds on the bottom, and he beamed up Devin who ruffled his hair.  I turned on the water and held my hand under the spray hoping the water heater still worked. Thankfully, the water began to slowly warm to a lukewarm temperature.  I waggled the nozzle, spraying a squealing Connor, waving his hands in the stream.

 

“How did you get free?”  I asked as I watched my son play in the water.

 

“Dumb luck and divine intervention,” Devin sighed.  He cupped the water with both hands and smoothing it cover Connor’s hair, careful to keep it from dripping into his eyes.  “I trusted the wrong guy. He claimed he was a rebel, but he was an informant, looking to turn in his own humans for extra rations. The sentries were taking me to be shot, but one of the overseers said they needed a slave to go down into the mine to check for poisonous gas.  Better to kill off one slave doomed to die than risk a dozen they needed to work the mine.”

 

They forced Devin down into the mine with guns at his back. The shaft was so dark, he had to walk with his arms out to keep from bumping into walls, but he still tripped over rocks and left behind tools.  The dust clogged his nose and throat, making breathing difficult.

 

“I thought I was going to suffocate to death before I found any gas,” Devin said, lost in memory. “I went further and further down, knowing I was going to die down there in the dark without ever seeing you or Connor again.”

 

The passage narrowed to the point where he had to crawl on his stomach. Having nowhere else to go but forward, he kept moving, shoving rocks out of his way and crawled through pockets where there was hardly any air.

 

“I think I passed out a couple times.  I should have died, but I kept waking up with enough strength to keep going,” Devin said.  “There’s no telling how long I was down there; it could have been hours or days. I barely recognized the light when I saw it.”

 

The light was pointing down like a finger from the top of the shaft.  Devin noticed the air was different, fresher, and blowing on his face.  Laying on his back he dug at the hole emanating the light. Dirt and rocks peppered his face, grit landing in his eyes, but he kept digging. His nails tore, his fingers bled, and palms ached as he pulled aside old dry roots and grass until he was grasping at empty air.

 

“It was like I digging out of a grave,” Devin said watching me wash Connor who was blissfully ignorant of his father’s chilling account.  “I had walked and crawled through ten miles of tunnel away from the camp. I was finally free but lost. The old woman’s team found me wondering, half-crazed from starvation and thirst and nursed me back to health.  They’ve been scouting the camp, seeking any potential weak points so they could free slaves.”

 

Devin then spent several days recovering from his ordeal.  He slept through most of them, only waking up long enough to eat and drink.  Most of the muscle he had gained from a year of working construction had been eaten away by lack of food and stress.  When he was stronger, he gave the rebels what information he had about the interior of the prison and the mines. Then the word came that I was going to be arrested.

 

“I had to come,” he said.  “Even if I had to run all the way, I was coming to you.”

 

“I’m here,” I told him tucking Connor against me and taking Devin’s hand.  “Nothing is going to change that.”

 

***

 

We stayed in the gas station for a day and a night.  I stayed close to Devin taking pleasure in his presence I had never known before. After a month without Devin, I would enjoy every second I have with him for the rest of our lives.  And he felt the same. It was like the first weeks after our wedding. Every touch was magic; every brush of skin elicited an electrical thrill and our eyes gleaming with desire. Beatrice, with a knowing smile, offered to watch Connor for us with a kindly, “Tu as manqué ton mari.”

 

Devin didn’t need me to translate to know what favor she was offering us.  We hastened outside, our hands still linked, our bodies hungering for each other. We tried to be discreet, but with a building full of adults and a teenager, it was a hard secret to keep.

 

We found a private spot behind an abandoned car behind at the back.  He took off the purple overshirt and stripped down to his waist. Scars rippled over his body; across his back and shoulders, over his arms and down his chest and stomach.  My lust was dampened by the sight, not because I was turned off by the scars, but seeing the suffering he had endured. The scars had no such effect on his ardor.

 

He pressed me earthward, his mouth taking mine and drinking me deeply. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle either.  Neither was I. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking together at the ankles, not letting him get off me.

 

“Keep going,” I rasped, my need greater than my consideration for him.  “Don’t stop . . .”

 

He gave himself to me as I gave him myself.  When we were both spent, we lay together basking in the afterglow that only good sex could give.  Then we dressed, checked each other’s clothes for bits of grass or twigs then went inside to the knowing smiles.

 

That night, we shared the mattress with Connor sleeping between us.  Devin lay awake watching Connor sleep while stroking my hair and face.  The lassitude was drawing me asleep when I heard him whisper, “I killed my father.”

 

His words surprised me.  “Devin . . .?”

 

“It just hit me now . . . my father is dead and I killed him.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, taking his hand.  “He was a terrible person -”

 

“I have spent years fantasizing about killing him,” Devin said, looking lost and very sad.  “Now that I’ve done the deed . . .I don’t feel anything. I’m not happy or sad about it. I don’t even feel a shred of guilt.”

 

I didn’t like how he staring at the ceiling, almost unfocused, as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there.  I squeezed his hand to snap him out of it. “You said so many times that man was no father to you or your brother and sister.  The world is better off without him in it.”

 

I’m sure God would have something to say about judging another person, but He could understand.  I thanked God fiercely for giving Devin back to me, but I also prayed He would soothe his soul. I wish Father Brian was here to talk to Devin and that he was Catholic or at least religious so he could find consolation in God.

 

***

 

**Takor**

 

Clark Marstron had seen better days. His charming smile had been smashed leaving him with bleeding lips and broken teeth.  One eye was swollen shut with an angry weal across it and his hair was wet from sweat and blood. His naked upper body revealed all the torture he had endured through his questioning.

 

“I don’t know anything more . . .I swear,” he said through a pained grimace.  “Eva Hayes, she’s the one you want . . .”

 

“But we don’t have her,” Takor snarled, pushing himself from the wall where he had been standing.  “If we did, then she would be in this chair and not you.”

 

The interrogator, a plucky Galra with tousled fur atop her head, was humming an out of tune old song as she looked over her implements.  She picked up a stainless steel rod with a sharp tip and twirled it between her fingers, expectantly. Her black apron had dark smears on it from her earlier work.

 

“She’s the . . .only one I know about . . .”  Clark moaned fearfully. “The others . . .”

 

“Are dead ends,” Takor finished for him.  “They knew nothing about an Eva Hayes, but you were the one seen going into private, secret places with her.  And I doubt it was for a romantic rendezvous.”

 

Clark coughed and blood dotted the floor between his bare toes.  “Please, don’t let . . .her hurt me again . . .”

 

Takor sighed with a roll of his mismatched eyes, “Then give me something, anything.  Maybe she let something slip or made some offhand comment.”

 

“I - I don’t . . .”  Clark muttered.

 

Turning towards the door Takor said to the interrogator, “Take off his nails and see what he remembers.”

 

“WAIT!  WAIT!” the human wailed, twisting against his restraints.  “I REMEMBER SOMETHING! I REMEMBER!”

 

Takor raised a hand and the interrogator lowered the tool with a disappointed tilt in her ears.  Takor turned around with crossed arms, “Remember what?”

 

“Hayes said something . . .weird,” Clark said desperately, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.  “I didn’t know what it meant.”

 

“Well?”  Takor said, becoming impatient again, his claws digging through his fur and into the skin.  Too much time has passed and Bridget’s trail was getting cold.

 

“Hayes said that . . .that the steering wheels in Galra cars are high . . .”

 

Takor waited until he realized that was all Clark had to offer.  “That’s it?”

 

“Please,” Clark wailed, “That’s all I . . .”

 

“Keep working on him and bring me anything he manages to cough up,” he said to the beaming interrogator.

 

Takor didn’t look back as Clark screamed.  The door cut off the screams behind a noise dampening shield meant for such dealings.  He walked down the long hall and through the main office, thinking drearily of his future.

 

The more he dug, the more pests and vermin he found in the soil of what he had once thought was a rich field.  The humans were far more clever than he ever gave them credit for. To think, it was dumb luck that set the wheels in motion for him to discover it. Doubtless, no matter how quickly he resolved the matter, there would still be blood to pay.

 

Setting aside the ruins of his career, he held with him the most important question of all.  Where was Bridget? Where was she hiding? Where did Hayes take her? How did they get a warning?

 

In his mind, it was all tied to her.  Though she may be the innocent in this, if he could find her, then he could find them all and a way to salvage his own hide.  Somehow, he had a gut feeling that Bridget was no longer in Limerick, but how was that possible? The borders were heavily monitored for any natives traveling unattended.

 

He sat down at an unoccupied terminal station and made himself calm down and think.  His instincts told him Bridget had gotten outside of the city. Logically, she should be hiding out in a building or the sewers under Limerick, but he had his doubts.  How would she have escaped Limerick unnoticed?

 

His claws tapped on the desk surface counting off each thought.  An underground tunnel? No, all tunnels were blocked off and patrolled by drones that could registered body heat.  They even sent records of rats and other vermin living down there. He refused to believe they had managed to get out on foot. It was impossible for humans to leave Limerick by themselves.

 

_ Steering wheels in Galra cars are high. _

 

He sucked in a deep breath as the epiphany rocked him.  “By the Emperor’s Throne, those clever little bastards.”

 

He switched on the terminal, entered his login, and access the security for his entire sector.  He was grateful his status had yet to be revoked and his arrest hadn’t been called for, yet. Pulling up the list groundcars that answered his alarm last night, he counted them.  Ten were in use that night. Then he pulled up drone images and security footage with the key image being groundcars. It pulled up over a hundred images and he filtered the search by typing in a time stamp.  Ten images. Alright, the next hour. Ten images again.

 

He clicked through hour after hour until eleven images popped up.  His fur rose beneath his uniform as he checked the location where each image had been taken.  Ten of the groundcars matched their routes, but one. This one had taken a more southern route and the last image of it was going to the more rural part of the city.  What was down there?

 

Pulling up a map, he saw what had been a sports club with a long road that . . .led all the way out of Limerick.

 

He swore, startling other officers at their stations.

 

***

 

**Bridget**

 

I woke up that morning with a full bladder that demanded relief.  Devin was sleeping with a wrinkle between his eyes that I ached to kiss but left him in peace.  Connor was sound asleep across his chest, a single finger in his mouth and baby soft hair tousled.  Carefully rising to keep from disturbing them, I got to my feet and padded barefoot out of the gas station. The man on watch waved from where he stood by the window and with a silent nod at him slipped outside through a backdoor exit.

 

Eva was sitting on a stack of crates smoking.  I hadn’t seen her much since reuniting with Devin.  I wasn’t sure if she was giving us our privacy or that she thought I was still angry with her.

 

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully to let her know I was no longer displeased with her.

 

“Morning,” she said back.

 

“I’ll be right back,” I said indicating a doorway with restroom sign hanging above it.

 

When I returned, I realized my hair was a nest of tangled curls, making me wish I had brought along a hairbrush.  And also a toothbrush. We had fled the apartment so fast, I didn’t have time to think of taking any toiletries with me.

 

“What’s wrong?”  Bridget said noticing my distaste.

 

“I’m a walking nasty nightmare,” I bemoaned trying to tame my curls with fingers alone.

 

“Ah,” Bridget said knowingly.  “I have you covered.” Sitting on the grate beside her was a plastic baggie which she tossed to me. It was a traveler’s toiletry kit complete with a small hairbrush, toothbrush with a small tube of toothpaste, a bar of soap, a bottle of mouthwash, and a packet of facial washcloths.  The back of the bag was reflective for a convenient mirror. “We’ve handed those out an hour ago, but you were so busy I didn’t get a chance to give you one.”

 

“Oh, thank you!”  I cried opening the packet and taking out the brush.  The brush was smaller than what I usually used for my mane of curls, but it would do.

 

Eva watched me tease my hair with the brush.  “Is Devin okay?”

 

I stopped brushing to consider the question.  “If everything was normal, I’d have him see a psychiatrist, but now I don’t know what to do to help him.”

 

“He’ll pull through,” Eva said, patting my shoulder.  “He’s tough and he’s back with you and Connor. He’ll heal, count on it.”

 

Eva’s words reassured me, but I knew I would later worry about him.  He seemed so guarded, almost distant from me. Perhaps he was trying to protect me from the worst of what he experienced.  “I think it’s finally hitting me that things will never be the same again.”

 

Eva shot me an amused look, “Oh really?  A year later, and you’re only now realizing the world had changed?”

 

I pushed at her shoulder in a halfhearted intention of pushing her off the crates.  “You know what I mean! In Limerick, we could pretend that things were almost normal.  We still had our home, we both had jobs and our son. Follow their rules and you’ll be safe, but now we can’t do that anymore.  I’m scared of what’s going to happen, but I'll be fine as long as I have Devin and Connor with me.”

 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” Eva said taking a long drag on her cigarette.  “What are your plans?” She said in such a stilted that I knew she was very curious about the answer.

 

“Getting out of Ireland and going to Liverpool to Dad,” I replied.  Devin and I hadn’t discussed any plans, but what else would we do?

 

“That’s going to be easier said than done.”

 

“I know,” I said regretfully.  “Takor probably has my face on every wanted poster across Europe. .”

 

For the first time, in a long time, I had no idea of what we were going to do beyond the next few days.  It was as uplifting as it was terrifying.

 

“I’m leaving in twenty minutes,” Eva said, grinding the cigarette out on the edge of the crate.

 

“When will you be back?”  I asked oblivious to the regret in her face.

 

“I’m not coming back,” Eva sighed, raising her gaze to meet mine.  “I’m being sent to London once the heat dies down a bit.”

 

I blinked, still not understanding, until it dawned on me with a punch to my gut.  “Oh, Eva, no! You can’t go! I thought were going together!”

 

Eva sadly shook her head, “I’m still a soldier in this rebellion so I go where they order me.  You’re a civilian they’re smuggling out off the island. So we’re taking different routes.” She laid a hand on my arm, a kind smile making her face glow, “This isn’t goodbye.  We’ll see each other again, I promise.”

 

But so much could happen between now and then, I wanted to say but held my tongue.  She didn’t need to hear my fears to know of them. Curling an arm around me, she pulled me into an embrace and kissed my hair.  She stepped back, but she kept peering into my face.

 

“You could be part of the Resistance too, Bridget,” she said.

 

I jerked my head side to side in mirth, “You know I can’t do anything like that.  I can’t fight. I’ve never fired a gun in my life.”

 

“I do my part without ever firing a shot,” Eva said holding up her hands as if to display no weapons.  “There’s more to war than just having the bigger weapon. Communication, intelligence, and tactics are everything in wars. You can help a lot in the communication department with your ear for foreign languages.”

 

“I . . . I suppose I could help translate,” I said slowly, considering her words.

 

Eva clapped me on the shoulder and then checked her watch.  “It’s time. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Eva, before you go,” I said stopping her with a touch on the arm.  “If anything happens to me or Devin, promise me you’ll take care of Connor.”

 

“Of course, I’m his godmother after all.”

 

Then Eva gave me a thumbs up and walked away.  I never saw her again.

 

***

 

It was dusk when they called us into the main part of the gas station and told us the plan.  Earlier in the day, several cars pulled up in front of the building. We would be split up into different cars, each taking a different route to the same destination.  There was a boat waiting at a secret location on the coast. It would depart at exactly 2:00 AM and anyone not on the boat at that time would be left behind to fend for themselves.

 

There was an uneasy shuffle and nervous murmurs among us.  I gripped Devin’s hand and he squeezed mine in return. He was holding Connor in his other arm who was watching the proceedings with mild interest.  The speaker was a tall black man with a slight French accent wearing fatigues and heavy black boots. His hair was shorn close to his scalp and he was in bad need of a shave.

 

“I know my words are frightening, but trust your driver and he’ll get you there in time.  We take these precautions for if something goes wrong, then the majority of you will be safe.”

 

Then we were assigned to different cars.  The Bernards followed a swarthy man to a black Camaro.  Beatrice stopped to kiss me on the cheek and prayed that God will be with both of our families tonight.  I kissed her cheek in return and bid her farewell.

 

Our driver was a blonde grizzled man chewing on a thick cigar.  He gave me a wink and bid us to follow him to an ancient Lincoln with an ugly paint job.  Noticing our reserved looks, he stated, “She may not look like much, but she gets you where ya need to go.  There’s a seat for the little one in the boot.”

 

The car seat had to be adjusted a bit for Connor’s size.  I managed to get it sorted by the time Devin finished loading our belongings in the back.  If I had known he was alive, I would have packed him a change of clothes so he wouldn’t have to go around in his prison garb.  

 

My heart was racing, but I told myself over and over that it was just a simple car trip to the coast.  Everything would be fine and we would soon be on a boat to the mainland. Our driver was double checking the wheels and topping off the gas when Devin got into the car with us.

 

“Bridget,” he said, drawing my attention up from adjusting the seat belt across Connor’s car seat.  “If anything happens, take Connor and run.”

 

“Stop,” I said giving him my back and returning my attention to the car seat.  “We’re not going to talk like that. We’re going to be fine and we’re going to be leaving Ireland together.”  I refused to consider any alternatives than that.

 

“Just promise me,” Devin persisted.  “Whatever happens, you get Connor to the boat.”

 

“Alright, I promise,”  I said without looking up at him.  I fidgeted with the seat belt and with a sharp tug, I was finally able to secure the car seat.  There was a soft touch at my jaw and I raised my eyes to see Devin’s face close to mine.

 

We kissed above Connor’s head as the driver jocularly chastised us for making out like two hormonal teenagers in the backseat. Once all the families were in their respective cars, one by one, they left the parking lot in opposite directions.

 

***

 

Night had fallen when the car crested a hill that overlooked a farm to the east of us.  The fields were empty with the soil untilled beneath a bright starry sky. It was a clear night, but that made me all the more nervous as I kept watch for any bewitching purple lights.  

 

Connor had fallen asleep with a thumb in his mouth. Every time I saw his thumb sucking, I tell myself I need to break him of that, but then push it under a do later when things aren’t so bad list.  I stroked his hair, hoping that the next time he woke we’d all be on a boat.

 

Devin was alert, leaning against the window and keeping watch for any shimmers or purple glows. He had been quiet for most of the trip, saying very little to the driver and giving Connor playful tickles to reassure him when he became fretful.  Sitting with them, I could see Connor looked so much like his father now. They shared the same serious blue eyes, the jet black hair, and long nose. The similarities were even more apparent now after Devin’s absence.

 

“We’re almost there,” the driver said.  He said his name was Dave, but I had the feeling that it was a false name.  “It’ll be another twenty minutes and you’ll see the coast.”

 

“Good,” I breathed patting Devin’s knee.  “See? We’re going to be alright.”

 

He turned his attention from the window and gave me his warm smile.   At that moment, I had the old Devin back and I believed we would fine.

 

But only for a moment.

 

There was a dull whine that grew in pitch until the glass buffeted the driver’s face as his head was thrown back.  The car swerved sharply to the right, wrenching us. The seat belts kept us from being thrown from our seats. Connor howled.  Devin undid his seatbelt and lunged forward between the front seats. He caught the wheel and steady the car. Glass jingled as it scattered on the floor and I noticed some had caught in my hair.  I checked Connor over making certain none of it was on him.

 

“What happened!?”  I cried, whipping my head towards the front.

 

The driver slumped over, his head rolling on Devin’s shoulder.  It tilted back and I saw the neat little hole in the center of his forehead where a streamer of blood was oozing.  A scream caught in my throat and was choked back. I turned away to soothe Connor who was wailing like a siren. Devin managed to bring his legs forward and stop the car.  He opened the door and pushed the body out. The car sped off before Dave, our driver, landed in a heap on the grass.

 

“There’s nothing we can do for him,” Devin said before I had a chance to ask.  “I know how to get to the coast from here.”

 

“How . . .?”  We hadn’t seen anything.  There had barely been any noise before the shot.

 

The car sped up, the engine roaring with ferocity, pressing my back in the seat.  Bits of glass brushed my face with the wind. Closing my eyes, I leaned over Connor shielding him from broken glass and cold wind.  Devin was taking the turns hard, sometimes driving on the side of the road.

 

“What are you doing?” I cried and nearly bit my tongue doing so.

 

“Serpentine,” he said.  “It was a sniper . . . a fucking sniper.  Keep your head down!”

 

Seconds, then minutes passed.  I listened for the whine, terrified it would mean Devin being killed next.  Connor’s wails dissolved to whimpers and his fearful eyes broke my heart. 

 

“It’s going to be alright, baby,” I whispered to him.  “Mummy and Daddy are with you, we’ll always be with you so don’t be scared.”

 

The car wrenched to the right and then spun out of control.  The world twisted taking me with it and there was an ear-splitting crash. 

 

When I came to my senses, I was wrapped around Connor’s car seat kept it from spiraling through a shattered window. The world was turned sideways and I was leaning against the front seats facing the back window.  Devin was calling my name, but I must have hit my head as it was so hard to focus.

 

My shoulder was grabbed and I was hauled upward through the broken window.  “Here, give me Connor. We can still make it, but we’ll have to run.”

 

The car had flipped onto its side.  It must not have been long ago as the wheels were still spinning.  One of the wheels’ tire was ripped down the side, the rubber flapping from each rotation. It took several tries to undo the buckles of the car seat.  Once undone, I lifted Connor to Devin and then climbed through the window.

 

Purple light washed over us from above.  Devin grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind him.  My shoes squelch on the grass as we cut across the field.  I was healthy, but I was no athlete and soon my lungs were on fire and my throat and mouth went dry.  I didn’t dare slow nor look behind me.

 

We stopped at the top of a hill.  I bent it double, wheezing and gulping air.  Sweat made me shiver as a breeze blew across my neck and face.  I glimpsed behind me and saw the purple lights getting closer. Devin was scanning the land before us and then pointed at a building far down the slope.

 

“I know this place!  There’s an old quarry I worked before!”  He hefted Connor on his hip and motioned for me to follow.  “Take a breath and let’s go!”

 

Running downhill was easier on the legs, but I had to be careful lest I fall head over foot down the steep slope. Devin ran with Connor locked across his chest with both arms. Several times I nearly tripped and I thought that it would be better for me to roll downhill as it would be quicker and give my legs a much needed rest.

 

God, I could hear the faraway roar cars somewhere behind us which gave me the strength to keep up with Devin.

 

The office building was a single story with graffiti sprawl on the sides.  To my dismay, there were no abandoned cars in the front we could take. Devin led me along the dirt road that passed through a gravel parking lot.  It had been unused for so long there were no longer any tire tracks on it. A gate hung open still leading downward. Ahead, I could see a pit, a quarry, gaping open like an open wound in the earth.

 

Devin blew through the gate without slowing, calling for me to hurry.  I pushed through the gate and headed where he led down into the quarry.  Our shoes kicked up clouds of white dust and I nearly tripped over a forgotten tool.  I managed to remain upright and saw Devin waiting for me at the edge of the pit. It was so dark down there, I couldn’t see the bottom.  There was a ladder affixed at the edge of the pit.

 

“There’s a tunnel at the bottom that leads out to the ocean. This place was shut down because ocean water kept coming in through the tunnel and ruining equipment.  ” Devin explained as he handed Connor to me. My baby was shivering, whether from fear or the cold, I didn’t know. His weight seemed to anchor me through the panic assailing my heart.

 

“Won’t we drown?”  I cried as he lowered himself onto the ladder.

 

“No, the tide is low right now.  We’ll only get our feet wet,” he said looking up at me with bright and determined eyes.  The ladder rattled under his weight, unnerving me. “I’ll go down first and make sure they haven’t blocked the tun . . .”

 

He fell.  The ladder pulled away from the pit wall, yanking out chips of rock, and took Devin with it.  It happened so fast I thought the darkness had swallowed him up. There was a metallic followed by a heart-stopping thud.

 

I stared numbed at the darkness, my lips trembling.  “D-D-Devin?”

 

There was no answer save for the cloud of disturbed dust rising into the light and with it came the coppery scent of blood.  I called his name several times, the Galra all but forgotten. I moved around the pit and found another ladder on the opposite side.  It was more securely bolted into the rock so with one arm around my son, I climbed down, still calling Devin’s name.

 

I was answered with a low moan that echoed from the bottom of the pit and my heart sang with relief.  The dust made me cough and Connor sneezed into my shoulder, but the ladder was sturdy and didn’t rattle nor budge.  My shoes found the hard bottom. The slow descent gave my eyes time to adjust to the dark and I saw him prone on the ground, the ladder only feet away from him.  He had fallen nearly twenty feet.

 

I hurried to him, my shoes scuffling over rocks and tools.  “Devin!”

 

He moved slightly, raising an arm and then dropping it.  From what I could see, he looked fine. None of his arms or limbs appeared to be broken and I didn’t see any blood, but I still smelled it.  I knelt by him, touching his face and said his name.

 

He looked at me, his eyes wide and glossy.  “Bridget . . .?”

 

“Yes, it’s me.  You fell, but I think you’re alright.  Did you hit your head?”

 

“I think . . .so.”

 

I leaned forward to check the back of his head and my throat tightened.  Blood covered the rock where he had hit his head. There was a gaping hole in the scalp where the jagged end of the rock had cut into his head from the impact.  I could see the edge of skull jutting out through his matting hair. My eyes adjusted more and I could see the skull was concave from the impact. 

 

There was a moment of panic so intense I couldn’t do anything.  I couldn’t react or speak. Thoughts flashed through my head. Call an ambulance, pray, run, try to stop the bleeding, or even hope the Galra could save him.

 

“Bridge . . .  let me see Little Man,” Devin said in a hoarse whisper.  “My vision is going.”

 

I turned Connor who burbled until he saw Devin.  “Da!”

 

Devin smiled weakly, lifting a hand.  It was clumsy as if he didn’t have full motor function with it.  He managed to take Connor’s hand and hold it. Our son became very quiet and shared a rare solemn look with his father. Devin’s voice was weak as he spoke to his son, “I love you, son.  Grow up to be good. Be whatever you want to be, but you have to be good too. Good people shine the brightest in this mean universe.” 

 

The life was fading from his eyes as he spoke, but he held on long enough to say these last words to Connor.  There wasn’t any strength or time left for him to speak to me. There was no need as I already knew.

 

I kiss him goodbye.  Then he was gone.

 

***

 

In the tunnel that Devin had died to lead us to, I kicked rocks out of my way, moved like a broken automaton.  I almost couldn't see ahead of me and only sounds were my heavy breathing and Connor’s murmurs echoing off the rocks.

 

I wasn’t in pain, yet.  Adrenaline and the purpose of getting my son somewhere safe kept me going.  Devin was dead, I knew that, but right now I could only process it as he was not with me.  It was getting harder to breathe. Devin had mentioned going through pockets of thin air during his escape.  I took it as a sign that I was going the right way.

 

The ceiling was beginning to dip, nearly scraping the top of my head.  I ducked down, keeping a protective hand over Connor’s head. “Oopsy daisy, wee laddie,” I said playfully.  “Mummy doesn’t want to bump your noggin on the mean rocks.”

 

Talking to him helped as it brought a small measure of comfort, but it made my voice echo.  I listened for sounds of pursuit behind us. I could imagine sentries neither tiring or slowing following us into the tunnel.  I didn’t dare stop for a rest or to even catch my breath. Hoping the cave would become narrower so they would have trouble following me, I kept going.

 

I didn’t notice the water until my shoes splashed into it, soaking through to my feet.  It was the tide, just as Devin had said. Elated, I hurried forward, wading through the water.  The air was better now and smelled of salt. When I saw the light ahead, I kept myself from running, fearing I would slip on the wet rocks.  Spray clung to my hair and misted across my face. I held Connor close to protect him from the chill. The water became deeper, seeping up to my thighs as I pushed forward.

 

We finally emerged out of the tunnel to the coast.  The water was as black as the night sky and the gentle waves shone almost as brightly as the stars above.  There was a low rock shelf beside the opening. I set Connor on the edge and told him to stand still while I climbed up.  After mounting the ledge, my strength finally gave out. I lay on the cold, wet rock shivering as spray lashed the rocks, wetting my back and hair.

 

_ Bridge, get up.  You can’t stop now. _

 

I could hear his voice so clearly, I expected to see him when I turned onto my back.  He wasn’t there, just the uncaring stars and night. “I’m tired, Devin.”

 

_ I know, but you have to get up. _

 

Maybe I imagined his voice so well because it was exactly what he would say if he was there.  My limbs were stiff and I moaned as I pushed myself to stand and pick up Connor who was idly a bit too close to the ledge.  I was able to see better outside. Seeing Connor reminded me how much he looked like his father. I forced back tears; if I started crying now, I would never stop.

 

It turned out that despite how difficult it was to stand, that had been the easy part.  The hard part was deciding which way to go. I was at the coast, but was the boat to the north or south?  Damn the rebels and their secrecy. Devin would know which way to go.

 

Dammit, just pick a direction and go.  I had been in one spot for too long and I was freezing.  Thank God, we had dressed Connor in a watertight onesie, but his hair was wet.  I could get him out of range of the ocean spray. I climbed the rocks with a bent back and watchful for any slippery stones.  Moving warmed my bones, but I was still only had little energy left. I moved slower than I would have liked, but I didn’t have the endurance to run anymore.

 

I scanned the coastline in hopes of seeing some sort of light that would indicate a boat or people meeting.  Was the boat still waiting? What if it had already left?

 

Panic crept over me.  What would I do if I had been left behind?  Should I make for Dublin? Could I sneak in and get to Devin’s family?  Could they hide me? Or would they?

 

_ Don’t panic.  Pick a direction and go.  It doesn’t matter if it is the right or wrong.  Just keep moving. _

 

Devin once taught me how to find the North Star.  Thus I headed north.

 

***

 

Connor fell asleep in my arms.  Once my coat had dried, I tucked him inside. I could hear him breathing from within, his small breaths little soughs against the fabric.

 

I walked where I could see the coast and kept looking for a boat.  If I see it, I could wave it over to pick us up . . . if they would pick us up.  No, don’t think like that. Keep moving, keep looking, and keep hoping. Devin wouldn’t give up.  He never gave up. Even when I turned down his first marriage proposals, he came to my dorm and proposed yet again.  When the Galra chased us during the invasion, he kept going, determined to get me and our unborn child to safety. I can’t do any less to honor his memory.

 

I choked when I thought to myself that I didn’t want to honor his memory, I wanted him here with me now!  I didn’t want to imagine his voice encouraging me onward, I wanted to actually hear it. I wanted my husband!  Why did God let me have Devin back only to take him away so soon! We barely had one day together! Just mere hours!  I wish . . .I wished Devin had died in the labor camp while I had recovered from losing him the first time. So I wouldn’t feel this pain again, a healed wound ripped opened.

 

No, I had to stop it.  If I started weeping if I started to wallow . . .

 

“Get a grip!”  I hissed at myself.  “Just keep moving!”

 

I barely saw it out on the water.  It stood out like a white sheet on the dark water.  A large boat, maybe a yacht, was crashing through waves.  It came from behind a shore cliff up ahead. The propellers at the back were churning the water into white rip tides.

 

I screamed, waving furiously, and ran towards the water.  “Wait! Over here! Please, over here!”

 

The boat didn’t slow nor changed direction and with good reason.

 

A Galra shuttle cut across the sky, purple hues cutting across my vision.  Hot air blasted my face and threw my hair back. Connor screamed, frightened by the loud roars of the shuttle’s engines.  I turned with my back to the ocean and ran with both arms around Connor. 

 

Please, don’t let them have seen us, I prayed.  Let them chase the boat, not us!

 

I glanced back to see sentries dropping from the shuttle and start running.  They weren’t heading for the water, they were heading for us.

 

Animal panic seized me and I ran with whatever reserves of energy I had left.  My body screamed for me to stop, I was going to break in half if I kept going like this.  There were heavy metal feet crushing the grass behind me, coming closer and closer. Sentries did not tire from constant running and they had no damaged spirit from losing a husband.  It was inevitable, they were going to catch me.

 

A groundcar ripped across the field, skidding to a stop in front of me.  The doors opened and two Galra soldiers came out with their weapons up. I stopped, holding up one hand to show I was giving up.  Before I could beg them not to hurt my son, a butt of a rifle smashed into my face.

 

I collapsed.  My last conscious act was to make certain I didn’t land on Connor.  Then it all went to darkness. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains scenes of violence and sexual assault, though not explicit.

**Bridget**

 

My face hurt from where the rifle had hit me.  If the soldier had used any more force, he would have cracBridget

My face hurt from where the rifle had hit me.  If the soldier had used any more force, he would have cracked my cheekbone. There was no mirror or any reflective surfaces for me to see the damage, but I could tell it had split the skin from the dried blood on my cheek.  My legs felt stiff as if they were locked in place with rubber bands. I could move them, but it took more effort than it should. And there were blisters on the soles of my feet. I could feel the pressure on them as I walked on them.

Two sentries took me to a cell where on the floor, folded in a neat square, was a prison garb like the one Devin had worn.  They told me to change clothes. I did as I was told, too afraid of what they would do if I refused. The garb was a size too big for me, bagging around my arms and legs.  Then it began to shrink and tighten, molding to my body until it fits perfectly as if it was custom tailored for me. It didn’t offer much warmth, but it felt strong, sturdy to offer some protection in a work camp.

They refused to answer my questions about where my son was or how he was doing.  I feared he was afraid and crying for me and there had never been a time in his life I couldn’t go to him right away. Despite my exhaustion, I paced the small cell, terrified to the point where I couldn't feel anything.  I couldn’t feel grief or worry and only this annoyance at the static filling my ears. The more I paced, the smaller the cell became until I was bumping off the walls, slapping at them, even kicking them once or twice.

When Takor came, I was actually happy to see the bastard at first.  He was a familiar face that came with memories of a better time when my husband was alive and my child was in my arms.  Then I remembered what he had done to bring us to this point and I backed up until my back hit the wall. He had raised a taloned hand as if he wanted to touch me.  If he tried to, I’d tear into his wrist with my teeth and smile as I watch him bleed out on the floor.

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

He stared at me as if he didn't recognize me.  I doubted I would have recognized myself if I could see myself.  “Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?’  I said venom in each word.

“When was the last time you slept or ate?”

I had no idea how it had been since I had a small bowl of soup made from powdery mix one of the rebels had brought.  I didn't tell him this, I didn't owe him any damn answers. Takor didn’t seem to be at his best self either. He looked tired, the veins standing out at the corner of his eyes and his fur looked ruffled.  Had he been staying up worrying about me? More like hunting me. Well, here I was, caught in his damn net for him to do with as he pleased.

“You’re upset at me.  Why?”

I gave humorless laugh, “Don’t.  Just don’t.” He was going to try it swing around so he wasn’t the villain and it was all some big misunderstanding.  He was going to try to make me feel sorry for him, to get me to trust him, but no, I would never let him be close to me again.  Never.

“I’ll have food brought to you and a bed . . .”

“Aren’t I lucky girl?”  I sneered.

His ears swiveled back, almost folding back like an angry cat’s, but they straighten with a flick.  “I know you’re angry, but this isn’t helping. I’ll come back once you’re rested.”

He turned away and my mood shifted like water in a tilted glass.  “Wait . . . my little boy . . . can you check on him? Please? Make sure he’s alright?”

He paused at the door, his back stiff, “He’s fine.  He’s with a human caretaker at the moment and he’s sleeping.  I looked in on him on my way here.”

There was a sickening flow in his voice, a satisfaction that made my stomach clench.  No matter how defiant I acted, he still had me because he had the one thing that I would do anything to protect.  Ten minutes after he left, two sentries came in. One with a tray of food and the other with what I, at first, thought was a thick blanket was actually a futon-like bed.

On the tray were a cup of warm tea, a wrapped sandwich, and a bag of chips.  I stared at the food conflicted with myself. My body was ravenous, but I had no appetite.  I wanted to both devour every bite and throw it on the floor. So I stared at it for a long time and by the time I resigned myself to eat, the tea had cooled to room temperature.

After eating, my body felt better.  I didn’t feel as cold or as weak before, but emotionally, I was still shite.  A doctor or a therapist would say I was experiencing emotional shock. Perhaps I was too tired to suffer any more.

The futon was more comfortable than I would have thought.  It felt like thin memory foam, but warm and the blanket seemed to sink in around me.  I would have loved it if I didn’t feel so numb and spread thin. Sleep offered escape, but I kept waking up and then remembering over and over what had happened.  Sometimes I cried myself back to sleep, other times I stared at the wall. I tried praying, but I couldn’t find the words or the will to beseech God. I would begin the prayer, but the words would slip away from me like flakes on a cold wind.

I kicked off the blanket and paced the cell, again smacking and kicking the dull walls.  I must have gotten some rest as my body now had the energy it was ready to burn. Now I knew why the lions pace in their cages.  Never before had my freedom been taken from me. In my youth, I have been sent to my room, but the door was never locked and I would resume my routine once punishment was over.  There was no life for me outside of this cell.

Devin is dead.  Every time that horrible sentence echoed in my mind, my insides twisted like a ball of paper.  I relived that moment when he fell over and over. If only he had noticed the ladder wasn’t sound or noticed the other ladder.  Why didn’t I catch him? Or shout a warning?

And my baby . . . I may never see him again.  Losing Devin was unbearable. . . but to lose my son was inconceivable.

In a sudden surge of desperation, I threw myself at the door screaming.  Sounds came out of my throat I would have associated with a mad animal. I slapped the metal with both hands until my palms stung and then hit it with fists.  I tried opening it by pushing the tips of my nails in the slit between the door and wall but broke them doing it. My hands were bleeding by the time I dropped on my knees choking on each sob.  The door remained solid and unblemished.

 

***

 

I waited, steeling myself for when Takor returned and planning what I would say to him.  Sure enough, he came back with a medkit in hand. He looked at my bloodied hands and the state of my face and hair and sighed as if I had done something disappointing.  A bile of pure hate rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down.

He knelt on the floor, set the kit down, and popped it open.  He took my hands in his and began inspecting them. “You shouldn’t hurt yourself,” he said reprovingly.

“I’m sorry,” I said through tight lips.  I wanted to spit in his face since he was so close, but I didn’t dare, not if I can still get what I needed.

He cleaned away the blood and sprayed an antiseptic which stung and bandaged them.  Having my hands clean made me want to shower, to wash off the filth of this place and him.  No, careful, keep my emotions under control.

He snapped the kit closed once he was done.  “Bridget, did you eat and rest well?”

“I ate,” I said, keeping my voice soft and demure, lest I began sneering at him again.  “I couldn’t sleep. I’m so worried about Connor.”

“He’s fine,” Takor said tersely.  “I checked on him again while you were resting.  He’s had a meal and he’s asleep right now.”

“May I see him?”  I asked. It was like tearing a band-aid off my soul.

A smile touched his lips, “I don’t know if I should disturb him at this time.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.  I had to beg to see my own child.  “Please?”

Mismatched eyes bore into my face.  Without pupils, I had no way of knowing what he was staring at.  My eyes? My mouth? Maybe the desperation etched in my face. “Alright, I’ll bring him to see you soon.”

I knew what he was going to do before he leaned in.  I made myself stay still. I made myself not bite him when his lips touched mine.  I swallowed back the curses and kept my wounded hands clenched on my thighs, making them hurt.  It was a short kiss, lacking the passion he had from the Emperor’s Blood, only a mere brush of lips.  He was testing me.

The tip of his tongue touched his lower lip.  Then he picked up the kit and left the cell. Once the door was closed and the echoes of his footfalls had faded away I viciously wiped my mouth on the back of a hand.  I couldn’t have been more disgusted than if a rat had crawled over my face. Then I spent another hour waiting. I tried to rest, but sleep wouldn’t come. It wasn’t just my mental anguish that kept me up.  My body was sore and my feet and hands hurt. So I lay, letting my body rest while my mind ran away with me.

I imagined myself at the pit’s edge with Devin. I could see him falling and my hand grabbing his shoulder at the last second, and pull him back to the edge.  He pulls himself up, thanking me for saving him. Then he would see the other ladder and we would go down and escape through the tunnel. He would have known which direction to go and that would be south, away from the Galra.  He would take us somewhere safe where we would be together. The daydream would seem so real that I start believing the cell was only a bad dream. Then like thread on the wind, it would blow away, leaving me in the cold featureless room.

When I heard Connor’s voice outside my cell, I thought it was part of my daydream.  My heart quicken when I realize that it was real and coming closer. I bounded to my feet despite my aching bones and hurried to the door.  A sentry came in first, edging me back from the door, and behind it was Takor with Connor in the crook of one arm.

He was wearing a blue onesie and looked quite well.  When he spotted me, he held out his arms, showing off his few baby teeth, “Ma!”

I went to him, taking him into my arms, and pressed my lips to his soft head.  He laid his head on my shoulder with a happy burble. He smelled of soft soap and had a clean diaper.  Someone had been taking good care of him in my absence.

“You have five minutes,” Takor said firmly.  “Then he’ll be leaving with the caretaker to Liverpool.”

I looked up, my eyes tearing up, “No, that’s not enough time.”

“Are you going to waste these precious minutes arguing with me or spend them with your son?”  Takor said, not unkindly.

Five minutes.  That was more than what Devin had with him in the end.  I knelt on the floor and propped him on my knees, taking his little hands and kiss them.  “Mummy has to go away for a while. So be a big boy while Mummy’s away. She’ll come back as soon as she can.”  My heart was racing and I was mentally counting down the seconds. Five minutes to spill my heart out to my barely one-year-old son.  How could he understand how much I loved him? How can I explain that I wasn’t going away because I wanted to? “Mummy loves you,” I said it over and over because I wanted it ingrained into him that he was more dear to me than the breath in my chest and the blood in my heart. 

Then Takor said time was up.  The sentry took my baby from me while I begged for more time.  Had it really been five minutes already?

I was tempted to twist away and hold onto my baby, even make a mad dash for the doorway which Takor was blocking as if instinctually sensing what I may try.  The sentry puts it hands around my sons waist and I let him go. I followed it as Connor was beginning to fret, wanting me, even reaching for me around its arm.  I touched his little hand moments before it was taken beyond my reach when the sentry took him from the cell. The door shut behind it and I could hear my baby beginning to cry.

I moaned and wept as I hadn’t done since I was a child.  My wails filled my ears, rattling across my skull. There was a touch on my shoulder and I looked up seeing Takor bending over me with not one trace of regret in his foul face.  I wrenched away from, hitting my back against the wall. Black hate filled my vision as I beheld the monster that had destroyed my family.

For the first time, the satisfaction bled from his face and he seemed addled.  Then finally, his ears folded back and his eyes brighten in an insidious glow. “You look at me with such hate after I have given you what you asked for?  You’ll purr for a favor and then hiss once you have what you want.”

“You just had my son taken from me!”  I cried. “What do you expect from me?”

“How about thanking me for letting you say goodbye?”  He rejoined, throwing a widespread hand towards the door.  “He’s on his way to Liverpool. For your sake, I arranged for him to be transferred to your father's custody.”

Not even the relief of knowing my son will be with my father and safe diminish any of the fury I carried for Takor.  “And I’ll never see him again! You’re going to send me to die in a labor camp!”

“No!”  Takor said vehemently.  “You wouldn’t survive a day there.”

“So what’s to become of me?”  I snapped.

“You’re going somewhere safe,” he said as he turned towards the door.  “We’ll speak once you have a chance to calm down.”

When the closed behind him, I sagged on the futon and waited again with my broken heart.

 

 

**Takor**

 

It was understandable she would be angry and he couldn’t fault her fury nor her grief.  Devin Walsh had was found dead at the bottom of a quarry pit. Upon discovering his rival perished he felt a small bead of regret.  As much as he detested the human, he had to respect him. He had been a good husband to Bridget and had fought hand to hand with Takor for her.  It was a shame he was born a human and not Galra. He would have made an honorable opponent. With his death, he was out of the way, but Bridget was still closed off from him.  In her distress, she was blaming Takor and he knew it was useless to talk sense into her with her being so upset. She needed time to calm down and become rational enough to listen to him.

He already made the arrangements for her to be moved to Ryuk, the command ship orbiting Earth. Once his court-martial was over, they will depart for Silva where he owned a small private estate on the tropical moon.  She should enjoy the warmer weather.

 

**Bridget**

 

Two sentries came into the cell.  One of them was holding a pair of shackles.  Without a word, they shackled my wrists behind my back.  Never before had my movement been so restrained and it was daunting to no longer have use of my arms and hands.  A cruel voice inside my head told me that I better get used to it.

They walked me from the cell and down a long hall of similar doors.  I could hear a woman crying within a cell, a man screaming at a door, and deep nasally moaning down the hall.  Did they hear me breaking down earlier? The sentries’ feet echoed down the hall sending some of the voices behind the doors into a hushed silence.  They took me to an elevator with reddish script on a control panel. The ride was so smooth I couldn’t tell which way we were going, up or down. It could have been left or right.  Then from the elevator, I was taken down a shortfall towards a set of double doors which hissed opened. Bright morning light blinded me and I shivered in the cold air. It was early morning.

Yesterday at this time, I had been chatting with Eva, a lifetime ago.

There was a shuttle ahead of us.  It was different, crafted more aerodynamic for breaking the atmosphere.  It was one of the ships they sent to their orbiting command ship and the sentries were taking me towards it.  A gangway was open into the interior.

Takor said I was going somewhere safe, but nothing about taking me off Earth!

“N-n-no . . .” I stammer as the realization slammed into me.

It bad enough my son was being taken off the island without me, but now I was to be taken even further away from him.  Worlds away. I backpedal and twisted in their grip. They didn’t have to struggle with my small body. They lifted me off my feet by the arms negated all my efforts to resist them.  Twisting, kicking, and even shouting at them didn’t impede them.

All my efforts to impede their progress only served to exhaust me again.  They strapped me into a seat with bars that secured me in place so I could only move my head. I expected the ship to rattle or hear engines roar, but no, it was a smooth lift, no more upsetting than riding in a car.  My ears popped and the windows darken as we left the atmosphere.

The shuttle boarded the command ship and I was barely shaking as it landed in the hangar. The sentries' feet were magnetically secured to the floor maintaining their guard stance.  As if activated, they unstrapped me from the seat and took me off the shuttle. Everything was so dark with tall ceilings and sweeping designs, meant for a taller race. The Galra must feel so cramp in our small human buildings when they’re accustomed to such grand architecture.  It made me feel smaller, vulnerable around the towering aliens. I was taken to another cell, no bigger than the one I had occupied on Earth.

  

**Takor**

 

The court-martial lasted only twenty doboshes. He pleaded guilty to charges of Incompetence and Dereliction of Duty without defense and received his sentence. He dodged being sent to a re-education facility but was forced to resign from his post on Earth, be demoted two ranks, have a sizable chunk of his assets requisitioned and received 30 lashes at the pillory.  None of it pleasant, but better than the Druids.

Losing funds hurt, but after the divorce, he should recoup his losses with the settlement.  He was granted leave from duty to get his affairs in order before reassignment. That would give him time to finalize his divorce, make sure Bridget adjusted in her new home, and send in a request to be stationed nearby.  If he found a post near Silva, he could check in on her and make sure she’s comfortable.

He was no fool. He understood she was grieving a husband and losing her child, but he could coax her into being warmer to him by video calls to Earth once the exonet buoys were established.  She could see her son and talk to him if she so wished, per his permission of course. He predicted she may become depressed, longing to reunite with her son. Bridget loved being a mother so he mustn’t wait too long before impregnating her with his own kit.

He visited her before heading to the pillory for his punishment.  She was sitting on the floor with arms wrapped around her knees. The cell was a few degrees warmer than she was used to but more pleasant than the frigid weather on the planet.  There was a slight bench against the wall next to where she huddled and he lowered himself onto it. He wanted to stroke the flaming curls that spread across her shoulders, but she wouldn’t accept his touch, not yet.  He can be patient with her, knowing that the wait would be worth it in the end.

“Are you comfortable?”  He asked with a kind voice use as for a small child.

The huddled human shudder and said nothing. Her hands tighten around her legs, the fingertips digging into the dark fabric.

“I wish I could have you moved to my quarters, but you have to go through a quarantine period first.  It’ll only last a few days, then we’ll go to Silva.”

Bridget raised her head, her red-rimmed eyes peering at him through a curtain of curls. Taking it as a sign of interest, Takor optimistically continued, “It’s a tropical moon that can support life.  It even has a small ocean and I have a house near the water. It may take some getting used to because Silva has a beautiful sunset every twelve hours, but it's amazing to see.”

She was openly staring at him, her lips slightly parted revealing a hint of teeth.  It was hard to read her expression. It betrayed very little of what was going on behind her eyes.

“I’ll see about getting clothes in your size,” he promised, hoping to get some positive response from her.  “The Space Mall is only three jumps away from Silva. It has clothing fashions from across the Universe so we’re sure to find something you’ll like.  It’s almost the size of Ireland and they have hotels so we can stay for a few days shopping - ”

“What’s wrong with you?”  The words were so soft he barely heard them.  Her eyebrows slanted and her lips tighten in a scowl. “My husband's body not even cold and you’re planning on us living together at some moon beach and go on little vacations like newlyweds?  My child, who has never gone a day without having me in his life will have to grow up without me . . .” She said through a cracking voice, fresh tears spilling down her face. Pain lined her face and she looked drained, exhausted that he wondered if he should have had her checked out by a medic before bringing her to the Ryuk.

“I know you’re in pain,” Takor said, his ears tilted back.  “Wounds heal, the pain passes, and you have the rest of your life to live. I cannot replace your husband and there is nothing I can do to ease the loss of a child, but you can still have a good life.”

“What if . . .” she licked her lips nervously, but she plunged forward.  “What if I don’t want to go with you?”

He had been hoping to avoid this bit of unpleasantness.  He should have known Bridget was too bright not to catch wind of it.  “You have to come with me.”

“Why?” she demanded.  “Why am I not being sent to a labor camp?  What did you do to keep that from happening?”

He sighed, knowing there was no avoiding it now.  “I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember taking the oath to the Emperor?”

After a moment of thought, she nodded, “Yes . . .”

“Do you remember the line, ‘if I should break the laws of the Empire, my citizenship will be forfeit and I will submit to the penalties for such betrayal. Be it death, enslavement, or forfeiture of possessions’?”

Again, she nodded, the epiphany still out of her reach.  “But wouldn’t that still mean I would go to the labor camp as a slave?”

“Technically, yes, unless a ranking officer makes a request which I did in your case.” Thankfully, he had it ready for when Bridget was processed.  It was still valid as he was a ranking officer before the demotion which won’t be official for a few hours yet.

Then Bridget’s eyes grew wide in horror as it finally went home to what was actually happening in her situation.  “Oh God, you own me as a slave.”

Her skin when several shades paler to a sickly pallor.  Concerned, he spoke quickly, “In the eyes of Imperial law, yes, but I won’t treat you like that.  You’ll be safe and taken care of . . .”

“You’ll rape me . . .” Bridget whispered in a choked voice.  “Sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph . . . I’m a damn sex slave . . . this is what you’ve been wanting all along.”

He had seen this look many times before in the faces of aliens who had lived freely their whole lives.  Despairing realization that their lives will be at the whim of others. Gone forever was the privileges and rights they had taken for granted.  It hurt him to see that look in her face.

“Despite what you may think of me, I am not some mastermind.  I didn’t arrange for any of this to happen.” He wanted to be gentle, but Bridget was stubborn and may need some sense forced into her.

“You were going to arrest me!”  she started, but he cut her off.

“True, but in my custody!”  he growled. It was a struggle to keep from shouting and shaking her.  Why couldn’t she understand? “I was going to issue a statement dictating you had no knowledge of your husband’s involvement with the rebels, but being a loyal citizen you assisted the Empire by giving me valuable information.  You would have been freed within hours, but running away painted you with guilt. When they caught you, they were going to charge you as a rebel. I was able to reduce the charges to fleeing with an escaped slave to keep you from being shot and claiming you as my personal servant kept you from the labor camps.”

He watched her hands curl into tight fists as she struggled with conflicting emotions roaming in her eyes.  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

“I have no proof, but my own actions,” Takor said pouncing on the weakness, this chink in her armor.  “Bridget, it’s been one misunderstanding after another between us. And I daresay that your perception of me has been clouded by prejudice conjured up by your loved ones who involved themselves with rebels.  Ever since I met you, I’ve helped you. Have I ever done anything to hurt you?”

She sat silent for a long time, torn between hating him and seeing him as her only hope.  The mistrust was still there, at the edges of her face, but he saw the sliver of hope in the green depths of her eyes.  She wanted to trust him, to have some hope. Now he had to seal the deal.

“You’ll see your son, again, I swear it,” Takor continued and took joy in the sudden brightness in her eyes.  “Once the exonet buoys are out this far, you can call and see him as much as you want.” He was being heavy-handed with the promise, as he intended to let her see her son only enough to keep her happy or maybe by then she’ll be too busy caring for their kit to be concerned about a child light years away.

“I . . . I don’t know,” she said.  “I can’t . . . I can’t deal with this right now.”

Her armor was going back up, but he had already scored a victory over her heart.  He nodded, conveying his understanding, and rose to his feet, “I understand. You still need some to process everything that has happened.  I’ll have a futon and food brought to you and I’ll a bring some toiletries for you from the concourse when I come back later.”

He wanted to touch her, to stroke her head, or even take another kiss from her, but it was too soon to overplay his hand.  He left her, his triumphant mood overshadowed by the fact he had to report to the pillory for his lashing.

  

**Prorok**

 

Prorok did not like Takor upon first glance.  The officer appeared to be young and incorrigible.  He was calm as Prorok handed down what would be considered a steep sentence. Loss of rank, money, and position was nothing to take casually, but the only time the officer’s ears so much as twitched was when Prorok announced the lashing, but even this was taken with an easy stride.

In his experience, whenever a Galra was willing to swallow poison, it meant he had the antidote in his pocket.

Once the fallen officer departed the office, Prorok turned towards his second, Thace, and said in a low mutter, “Have his luggage searched and I want a manifest of everything he brought on board.”

“Yes sir,” Thace said neutrally.  It wasn’t the first time Prorok had such suspicions towards soldiers who fail in their duty to the Empire.  Especially since coming to this difficult planet.

Earth had proved to be a nest of thorns and vipers. Taking the planet had been costly in men and resources which had been a blight on Prorok’s career of smooth conquests and campaigns. With the rebels hampering the annexation into the Empire, Prorok was almost losing fur from stress as the campaign extended itself longer and longer. They should have begun colonizing the planet ages ago, but the humans still had fight left in them and seemed to find the overwhelming odds more of a challenge than an impediment.

Within the hour, Prorok was flipping through Takor’s manifest, eyeing each piece with a suspicious eye. So far, there was nothing more dubious than his own issued weapons he had turned in shortly after boarding.  Even the messages from home concerning a divorce was of little consequence. Then he noticed a highlighted icon beside special cargo. Tapping it, he read the line: human female, servant.

With a few keystrokes, he pulled up her acquisition history and eyes narrowed at what he read.  Prorok now knew the game the little shit was trying to play. He smuggled an informant onto the Ryuk to regain his rank and honor by capturing a rebel cell single-handedly before his demotion was made official, thus preempting Prorok’s ruling and making a fool of him in the process. His reputation was being smeared by the rebels and here Takor was undermining him by keeping information for himself to secure his position.  Perhaps even edge into being appointed a captain of his own vessel.

He’ll be damned before an upstart gets promoted at his expense.

  

**Bridget**

 

I felt as if I was on a merry go round, but instead of flashing lights or whimsical music, it was gray and lifeless.  Mire in pain, confusion, and anger.

First, I grieved for Devin, blaming myself for his death, wishing with all my heart he was with me.  Then I thought of Connor who would grow up without his parents. Barely a year old. . .just one year we got to spend with our son.  Was that it, God? Was that all the time we got to spend with our baby? What would happen to Connor without us? Without me?

Pain swept through me as I thought of my own mother.  I never knew her as she had died when I was barely talking.  She was just a face in a picture and a subject of my father’s sad reminiscents after he drank one too many whiskeys.  Was that I would become for Connor? Just barely a memory? If that at all?

“Oh, God, please, I’m not going to be there to celebrate his first birthday . . .” I moaned as fresh grief seized me by the throat.  Who was going to bake his birthday cake? Who was going to walk him to school? I won’t be there to see him potty trained, watch him play sports, prepare after school snacks, lecture him for bad behavior, or watch him grow up. . .and he won’t remember me.  He won’t remember how much I love him or worst, he’ll think I abandoned him. That I left him . . .

Takor said he would let me see my son through the exonet buoys, but how long before those are set up?  And would Takor even keep his promise? If I gave into him, then he would have power over me for the rest of my life.  And who’s to say that he won’t tire of me or find another doxy that catches his attention. I could be cast aside into some new hell at his whim and any hope I had of seeing Connor again would be gone.

The door opened, emitting two sentries.  I stood, wiping my eyes on the back of a hand.  Takor wasn’t with them. An ominous chill rolled down my spine as they shackled me and took me from the cell.

Sometimes we passed a Galra walking the hall.  Some would stare at me and others were too consumed by their errands to pay much mind.  I looked for Takor, praying that he would show up and enlighten me of what was happening now.  As much as I found his presence repugnant, his not being there was daunting.

Up several levels, and I was taken to another cell, but this one was darker, almost cramp.  It wasn’t meant for comfort. There was a tall stocky Galra waiting. He wore armor I hadn’t seen before; black with eye-like markings on the chest.  His fur was thicker, almost coarse and his ears were large and tufted. Small tusk-like teeth poked up from his bottom teeth to rest over his upper lip.  His features were strong and more animalistic than I had ever seen in a Galra, but he was oddly familiar. I had seen him somewhere before, but where? My experience with Galra was very limited, but his face was uncannily familiar to me.

It wasn’t until he spoke that I finally remembered where I had seen him before.  His voice was guttural, almost scratchy, “Do you know who I am?”

“Commander Prorok,” I said, amazed I was in the same room with the first Galra the collective human race had ever seen.  His face was the one that had delivered the condemning news of the Galra impending arrival. His image and message had been plastered on news media, online memes, entertainment channels, and posters for the months until the invasion. I recall that last night of carefree peace Devin and I had shared before Galra took over the satellites to broadcast Prorok.

His thick brows hefted in surprised and his mouth lifted around the tusks in a snide grin, apparently pleased with my recognition.  Like I was some dog off the street that performed a trick. I was afraid of him as I would be of any Galra I didn’t know, but the hairs on the back of the neck were standing up. I was wary of him as I would be around something dangerous, like an aggressive animal, an exposed electrical wire, or a deep hole.

“Whatever deals you had with Takor are off the table.  You’ll be dealing with me instead,” he said taking a long step towards me.

I involuntarily stepped back, confused and even more afraid.  What deal was he talking about? Did he mean my going to Silva with Takor?  I thought I didn’t have a choice in that. If he was offering me a deal that would let me go home, then I was for it, but I had no idea he wanted from me.

He didn’t give me long to consider his words.  “Whatever information you were saving for Takor, you can share with me now.”

“What information?”  The words slipped from my lips tactlessly and he made me regret them.

He chuckled and it was void of any mirth.  Before I had so much as an inkling of what he was going to do, he punched me in the stomach.  He held back at the last second, not wishing to cause serious damage yet. I bent double gasping and heaving.  He watched me coldly with a spark of pleasure in his eyes.

“I don’t play games, human,” he said icily. “My time is better spent serving the Empire so the quicker you tell me what I want to know, than the easier this will be for you.”

I moved away from him, but he stepped closer, not giving me any space.  Before I could dart away, he grabbed my hair and wrench me to the side. My shoulder smacked into the wall, hurting when I bounced off it and before I could regain my balance, he pressed my skull against the wall, applying pressure until I moaned.

“If you prefer it the hard way, then I can oblige,” he said almost bored.

I thought he was going to crack my skull with the pressure of his hand.  I knew Galra were strong but never before had I fathom how powerful they were before now.  He released me, taking my unharmed shoulder and simple flip me around so my back was to the wall.  Then with an almost casual grace, his hand wrapped around my throat and lifted me several feet off the floor.

I grasped his wrist with both shackled hands and struggled to breathe.  How could I answer any questions if he won’t give me a chance to talk? I would later come to understand that he was working me over, softening me up for the real questioning that would follow.  Perhaps to loosen some tidbits of information before he dug into me for the prize.

My legs jerked and kicked at the wall behind me.  I choked out, “O-o-okay . . . st-stop . . .”

He let me go.  I dropped several feet and landed hard on my arse.  My throat burned and my eyes watered. Recovering, I watched him standing over me, waiting, and I only had seconds to save myself from being hurt again.

What could I tell him that he wanted to hear?  And the better question was what I could tell him without endangering anyone I knew.  I told him about the plan about getting the boat. That should be informative, but harmless as the plan had already been executed.

Then he kicked me.  My side cried out and when I would see it again, an ugly bruise would be spreading along my waist and hip.  Then he hauled me up but the purple overshirt, tilting my upper body backward for a slap across my face. I tasted copper in my mouth and a surge of rage flowed through me.

He yanked me close, nearly lifting me off the floor again, and brought his tusked mouth close to my ear.  “If you look at me like that again, I’ll blind you. Do you understand?”

“Yes . . .”  I said weakly.

That was when he bit my ear.  Sharp teeth grasped the upper shell of the ear and tore the skin.  I screamed, terrified he was going to rip my ear off my head. He released me, letting me drop to the floor again where I hastily examined my bloody ear.  It was still there, but bleeding profusely. Blood kept seeping into my ear hole and I wiped it on the purple garb.

“Let’s start over.  I want names, locations, and codes if you have them,” he said, actually cracking his knuckles.

Terror filled my heart as I realized that he was enjoying hurting me and he had so much more in store for me if I continued to, in his eyes, not cooperate.  I told him everything. About the Toms, the garage, leaving Limerick in the false Galra car, meeting with others in the gas station, and everything leading up to the plan

He didn’t look impressed.  “False names and old hideouts that have long since been cleared out?  Is that all?”

“That’s all I have,” I whimpered hating how I sounded.  “I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you . . .”

“You’re holding back,” he sneered.  “Takor wouldn’t have kept you for himself if this is all you have.”

I blinked at him, again, confused  “I don’t . . .I don’t know what you mean . . .”

I flinched when he growled.  It was deep, his throat vibrated with it, and his eyes blazed at me.  I waited for the next blow, a kick, or even punch, but he just stared at me, thinking, his thoughts hidden behind a scowl.  “You either don’t know anything,” he said slowly, “or a very good liar.”

“I’m not lying!”  I cried panicked. “Please, I don’t know anything!”

“Most Commanders would let the Druids do the questioning,” he said as if explaining why he preferred eating a certain restaurant.  He flexed his long fingers and each of them gave a strangely satisfying crack. “But they’re more interested in finding traitors and they tend to keep their information to themselves so I prefer to do my own questioning.  I did learn some of their techniques from witnessing their interrogations. Such as how some people can withstand severe pain to keep their secrets, so you have to keep applying pressure until they crack.”

I was crying by now.  I shook my head, begging him not to hurt me, that I really didn’t know anything. When he grabbed my shoulder, his claws digging into my skin through the shirt, my flight or fight response kicked in.  Since I couldn’t take flight, I fought and bit his wrist as hard as I could. He roared enraged and ripped his hand from my mouth. Glowing, hot purple blood dripped onto my front and legs and I scooted back on my rear, horrified by what I had done, knowing I had given him a genuine excuse to do me real harm.

He inspected his hand which now bore a half circle of neat little indents from my teeth.  Then he raised his eyes to mine . . .

“I’m sorry!”  I shrieked, my back hitting the wall and I scuttled into a corner.  “I’m sorry, please, I’m so sorry!”

Then he was on me. What came next was a series of painful sensations, visual memories, and my mind trying to get away from what was happening. I screamed over and over until his hand closed around my throat again, squeezing, turning my next cry into a strangle wheeze.  It’s amazing what you notice in the moment of intense trauma. From his open mouth, I noticed his tongue was purple and the back of his throat was a darker shade of purple. Did Takor have a purple tongue too?

  

**Takor**

 

The whipping itself was not pleasant, but then, what whippings were?  He forewent having his wrists tied to the horizontal pole set into the wall and grasped it with both hands. The man who made certain he assumed the correct position discreetly offered a hard mouthpiece which Takor accepted.  Many Galra opted to take their whippings without a bit, but he was not out to impress anyone. He sank his teeth into it. An electro-whip, not much different from those used on slaves, slithered on the floor as it was shaken loose from its coil.

The first five lashes were rough as it had been a while since he experienced so much pain.  By the seventh lash, he had guarded himself, biting hard on the bit. He remembered to make some noise by the 12th strike.  Be too quiet, and the flogger will believe his skills are being insulted and put more into his swings to get a rise. With the last ten strokes, Takor had to no need to remind himself to moan.

When it was over, the flogger recoiled the whip giving Takor the space he needed to sort himself.  He stayed still, not moving, knowing it was going to hurt like hell when he did. Though he had fur protecting his skin, the electric whip sent currents through the pelt and straight to the nerves.  There were hot welts that burned whenever he moved. Without a sound, he collected his upper garment where a painkiller had been stored beforehand.

Breaking the tablet between his teeth, he picked up his commlink, noticing a message had been left for him. After listening to the recording, he threw on his clothing, ignoring the pain lancing his back and shoulders and went past the surprised flogger at a near sprint. He radioed the cargo clerk.

When a voice greeted him, he barked, “Why in all the hells was my servant taken from quarantine without my permission?  Who allowed this to happen?”

The clerk replied with a defensive edge, “Orders from the Commander.”

Takor faltered mid-step, his head swimming from the news.  At a loss for words, he could only utter a weak, “Why?”

The speaker, taking subverse pleasure in Takor’s shock silence declared, “You’ll have to speak with a CO about that, sir.”

Takor ended the call, squeezing the commlink hard enough to almost crack it.  “Shite . . .”

He redirected the elevator to the upper levels.  He was still an officer and had the right to request an audience with Prorok or his second, Thace. Prorok’s adjutant informed him the Commander was busy at the moment and would not be bullied into disturbing him.  However, Thace agreed to meet with him on his way to his office.

Before the superior officer had a chance to politely inquire of Takor’s purpose for disturbing him, Takor plowed in, “Sir, I demand to know why my property has been taken from the cargo without my permission.”

Thace gave him a hard look, his gold eyes flashing until Takor dipped his ears in a silent apology.  “First, your permission wasn’t sought because the Commander has no need of it to do as he sees fit on his ship. Second, if you dare to speak to me in such a callous manner again, I’ll see to it that you are demoted until you are cleaning toilets in the Ullipa System. And third, withholding an informant to further your own ends brings more harm to the Empire than it can benefit you . . .”

Takor cut him off, risking his meager career, “Sir, she’s not an informant.  She knows nothing about any insurgents.”

Thace flicked his hears, annoyed, “I read her file.  She was caught fleeing with them.”

“True, but she’s not one of them.  Her husband worked with rebels without her knowledge.  She didn’t learn of it until a few days ago and she only fled because she was compelled to do so by her family.”

The superior officer tilted his ears, suspicion lining his face, “You seem to know her quite well . . .”

Takor pushed aside the heat of embarrassment.  “I’m not taking her with me because she’s an informant, sir.”

Thace stared at him, until understanding raised his brows, easing the hard lines in his face before it turned into a vicious glare.  “Did she want to come with you?”

Taken aback by Thace’s sudden anger, he said, “Yes, it was either come with me or the labor camp.”

For a second, Takor thought Thace was going to hit him when he bared his teeth but turned away.  “Prorok is questioning her now. If we hurry, you may get your human back before she’s permanently damaged”

His plans were scattering before him.  What was Prorok doing to Bridget? How long has she been alone with him? Imagining the brute of a commander harming Bridget raised his hackles and the anxiety mounted with each step.  He followed Thace up several levels before they came to a dark cell door.

It opened as Thace raised a hand to knock.  Prorok filled the doorway dishevel with the scent of sweat clinging to his fur.  There were shallow gouges along one side of his face, below the arching fur along his cheekbone. He adjusted the front of his armor and they both saw the slightly swelling bite mark on the meaty part of his hand, below the thumb.

“Thace?  Is there a problem?”  Prorok asked, raking claws through his fur between the ears, a bit agitated at being seen unkempt.

“The human you were questioning . . .” Thace said, his eyes looking around Prorok in the depths of the cell.  “She is not an informant . . .”

“I just ascertain that,” Prorok replied.  “She didn’t have much to offer . . . intel, that is.”  There was an odor in the air around Prorok. It was a musky scent of sex and blood.  And terror.

Chillingly, Takor glanced into the cell around Prorok’s side.  It took a moment to find a huddled figure in the far corner of the room.  She wasn’t moving. It felt as if all his insides were turning to grease as an unwanted realization delivered him a huge blow. Even if it broke protocol and Imperial etiquette, he brushed past Prorok to Bridget.

He breathed in a quick hiss when he saw the extent of her injuries and torn clothing.  Her hair covered her face like a widow’s shroud, in a limp form of curls. She was still alive, her small chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.  Bridget made a pitiful sound when he slid both arms under her and lifted her from the floor. Green eyes opened for a second, then closed again. He wondered if she had sustained a head injury too.

He had imagined holding her like this but under vastly different circumstances.  Prorok’s stench was all over her. On her skin, in her hair, and on what was left of her clothing reeked of the Commander.  Takor felt a barely constrained fury rising inside of him. He imagined himself tearing into the Commander’s throat with his teeth until he choked on the blood.

As he emerged from the cell, a sentry with a hovering gurney was waiting.  Surprised, but grateful, he laid her on it. She shifted in discomfort and pain from being moved but lay still on the comfortable surface.  The gurney’s sensors lit up began reading her vitals. He was no medical specialist, but her vitals were weak but solid. Bridget would recover and this would only be a bad dream for her.

“Once she’s treated, take her to my level,” Commander Prorok said casually as if ordering a meal.

“Sir!?”  Takor couldn’t contain himself to stay silent.  “I’ve already made preparations to take her to Silva in a few quintants.”

The Commander looked at him as if noticing him for the first time.  “Oh, well, you are being punished for failing in your duties,” he dismissed.  “I failed to see how you can be allowed to take a prize home with you.”

Despite his outrage, Takor observed the Commander seemed more relaxed, not standing with such rigid formality as he had during his court-martial. He was actually, almost slouching against the wall, regarding the female being carted away by the sentry with appreciation.  If he had any doubts as to what happened to Bridget in the cell, this dash them away. His hackles rose, his lips peeled back from gritted teeth. If he didn’t know that attacking a superior officer wouldn’t result in his instant death, then he would have the bastard by the throat.

As if sensing the approaching danger, Thace interposed himself between Prorok and Takor.  “I’ll escort Takor to his quarters, sir.” He gave a Takor a hard look and motioned for him to follow.

“Yes, see that he stays in his quarters for the duration of his time there,”  Prorok called before swaggering away.

Once they were well out of earshot and near the elevator, Takor blustered, “He can’t . . .”

“He just did,” Thace replied continuing to the elevator.  “This is his ship and he is a Commander. He can do as he pleases.”

Takor followed him into the elevator, still not giving up his fury, “Did you not see what he did to her!?”

The superior officer shot him a fierce glare, “Yes, I saw and it is not the first time he’s done this and nor will it be the last.  You’re the best hope of getting her back is if Prorok gets tired of her and that is if he doesn’t kill her first.”

Takor could pick up on that Thace didn’t like him, but was on his side in the matter.  “There must be something you can do . . .”

“There’s nothing I can do,” Thace snapped as he punched in the level he wanted.  “I’m as displeased as you about it, but I have no sway over his proclivities.”

“Then, can you buy me more time on the Ryuk?”  Takor pleaded, hating himself for begging, but he needed time.  After going through so much to get Bridget, only to lose her now, would be unbearable.

Thace considered him for a long moment. “I can push back the orders, but know this, you won’t have any power on this ship and if you cause trouble and bring attention to yourself, then you may find yourself in worse trouble leaving than when you arrived.”

“You have my thanks,” Takor said with a respectful bow.   Suddenly, he felt a cold chill blow over him. Not physically, but it was there all the same.

When he raised his eyes, he was face to face with a scathing stare from Thace.  “Don’t thank me. I am not, in any stretch of the imagination, doing this for you.  If you can pry that human from Prorok’s claws, then I will stand out of your way. Though, if you ask me, it would be better to kill her before letting her go anywhere with you.  You brought her on board and put her within Prorok’s reach for your own lecherous intentions. And I daresay that you had a hand in what happened to her family. Any pity I feel in this situation is reserved for her and for her alone.”

The elevator doors opened and Thace left behind a stunned Takor.

  

**Bridget**

 

Time passed in fragments.  Sometimes I was back home with Devin and Connor.  Other times I would be living with Dad in Liverpool as a child.

I was lying on a barrel chest. When I was little, I had night terrors like any small child and Dad would come into my bedroom and hold me until I fell asleep again.  He would promise he would take his monster ‘into the ring’ if they dared frighten me again. For almost ten minutes, I believed myself in my father’s arms, and it had all been a terrible terrible dream. Sensations rippled around me and what I had thought was my father’s favorite old flannel pajamas was actually fur.  It wasn’t my father holding me.

I threw up on him and he slung me onto the floor so hard my back nearly broke.

That first night, I couldn’t get out of the small bed to use the toilet in the corner of the room.  My body screamed with agony whenever I tried to rise. I passed out with a full bladder and I woke to soaked sheets and the reek of urine.  Two medical droids or sentries came in and changed the sheets and cleaned me as if I was an invalid. When I was disrobed, I cried, not wanting to be seen, not even by a damn robot.  I didn’t want to see the bruises.

They always clean me up after his visits.  They tended to my injuries, set my wrist after he broke it, and cleaned away the vileness clinging to my thighs. I cursed at them one time, even spat on the chest of one, but it didn’t respond. It continued putting me back together for Prorok to tear apart later.

The good times were when I thought I was home with Devin.  I lay still, waiting for Devin to come home, to slide into bed next to me after a long day of work smelling of soap and shampoo.  I listened for Connor’s crying, ready to get up and change his nappy or give him a bottle. Then I would feel the pain in my limbs and it would come crashing down on me.  Devin was dead. Connor is gone.

In my darkest moments, I asked God why this was happening.  No, I demanded to know why He had let this happen to me. Had I not been a good Catholic my whole life?  I followed his Commandments to the letter. I honored my father until the day I went against his wishes in marrying Devin. I kept my body pure by practicing abstinence until my wedding night, and now I was being defiled by a tusked monster.  I baptized my son in His name and my baby was taken from me. What have I done to deserve this? Wasn’t God supposed to protect me? Protect my family?

Devin and I only had three short years together.  Just three. From the day I met him, to the day he died. Other couples spent their lives together, celebrating twenty years, fifty years, even sixty year anniversaries.  Devin and I only got three. Why? Were we not good enough? Was it because I married a non-Catholic man? That Devin didn’t go to church? What about my baby? Not even a year . . .just months I got to be in his life.  I won’t see him go off to his first day of school, get a pet dog, ride a bicycle, graduate, marry, and have children of his own. I’ll miss it all in this hell and he’ll grow up without me. Just one year.

_I deserved better than that, God, I deserved so much more than that.  Why did You let this happen to me? After so many years of worship, going to Church, being good, confessing, and doing everything they told me that good Catholic girls do, You let this happened to me!_

I hate You.

The old me died in those slave quarters.  Gone was my naive, innocent self. She died alone and afraid in the darkness and when I finally left that place, I was different, harder, and mad as hell.

  


**Takor**

 

After waiting three agonizing weeks and a response finally came.  He took it in his quarters and on a private channel Warrant Officer Tayne had shown him.  It wouldn’t do if word of this conversation got to Prorok’s ears or anyone’s ears for that matter.

Before sitting at his desk, he had neatly groomed his fur and washed his face, hoping to present a professional front. The favor he asked for wouldn’t come without sacrifice and he needed to maintain his self-control through appearing he was still in power, though his demotion went through two weeks ago.  Thus far, his continued presence on the Ryuk hasn’t been questioned, yet.

A holo-screen expanded above the terminal, casting a white glow across his face as his caller’s background came into focus. Wearing pure white and long dark braids with chiming beads, sat his ex-sister-in-law, Jenna, who ran a slave auction on Crinth.

She was tapping a white immaculate lacquer claw tip on the pearl desk in her office or bedroom, he couldn’t tell.  “I thought my assistant was joking when she told me you were trying to contact me, but here you are.”

“I hope things are well with you, Jenna,” he said in greeting.

“I’m not in the mood for pleasantries.”  Jenna flicked white claws at him. “You have a lot of nerve coming to me for favors after the tizzy you put my family through. They had to rush Lina’s marriage before her beau’s family could hear of her being married to a failure while you made off like a thieving unilu with the divorce settlement.”

“I do apologize for any misconceptions there is between my family and yours,” he said with a respectful bow of the head, ignoring the insults.  He would gnash his teeth about it later. “And I wouldn’t come to you if I didn’t need help.”

Jenna looked at him with predatory curiosity.  “And what help would that be?”

“Do you still have connections in Zenana?”  he asked.

She raised a black eyebrow.  “If you think I’m going to reinstate your membership there -”

“No, no, hear me out, please!”  he said quickly when she lowered a hand to disconnect the call.  She paused with an arched brow, waiting. He spoke quickly, “You’ve provided potential courtesans to Zenana before, right?”

Jenna nodded, her hand still posed above her terminal.  “I have provided Madame Floentha some bodies, why?”

“Would you be interested in recommending a new exotic alien from Earth to their repertoire?”  He kept his face wooden, refusing to reveal the desperation clinging to his spine.

Again, he was given a suspicious tilt of the ears.  Jenna had not been expecting this request at all. “Why?  What’s in it for you?”

“That’s personal, but I guarantee that it will be worth your time.”

Jenna clicked her nails together, thoughtfully, her eyes focused on his face, considering.  “More out of curiosity, I want to see the ‘exotic alien’. If, and that is rather distant if, I do recommend her, I don’t want my reputation sullied.”

“Of course,” he said maintaining a calm exterior while anxiety gnawed his insides.  “I have a portfolio that I’m sending right now.”

The exonet buoys were too far out to make this call cheap and it was even more expensive to send data files, but in this case, it was necessary.  After Hayes’ apartment was ransacked, he collected Bridget’s small family album. After poring over it, he selected pictures he believed would make her appear as an acceptable addition to Zenana. A wedding photo to show off her beauty and happiness, an image of her at the beach revealing the sensual supple body and zest for life, and though he nearly destroyed them, he included images of her with Devin to display her companionable nature.  It took a few doboshes to upload on Jenna’s end which she opened with a tap.

“A human? There’s been some curiosity about them,” Jenna said thoughtfully, flipping through the pictures with a single finger.  They flipped to the fight on a holo-display where he could see them. An image of Bridget standing, smiling with Devin’s arm around her rounded the view.  “What about the male? I know a buyer who might like his type.”

“Dead,” Thace said tersely.

“Shame,” Jenna sounded like she meant it.  “Well, I’ve seen prettier, but she has good coloring and shape.  I’ll need some medical data before I can recommend her.”

“She’s currently entertaining a Commander,” Takor said.  Now, this was where the situation became complicated.

Jenna raised her head, her eyebrows arching.  “She belongs to a Commander? I thought you were trying to sell her.”

“I acquired her after she was arrested.”

“Arrested for what?”  Jenna’s voice took on a doubtful edge.

“She was fleeing with an escaped slave, her mate, the dark hair human in the pictures.  He died, but she was caught.” He didn’t dare bring up that her husband had been linked to rebels.  Any alien arrested for rebellion acts or treason was executed or worked to death in labor camps. Rebels did not make a good companion or domestic servants.  “Commander Prorok requisition her for himself.”

Jenna gave him a rather penetrating. “So if I was to fill in the blanks, then you claimed her for yourself and then Commander Prorok, of all people, stole her away.  Now you are asking me to recommend her to Zenana so Madame Floentha will request her. Are you doing this out of spite?”

Jenna was too observant and inquisitive for his tastes.  He respected the woman, but there were times he wished a mad yupper would tear her damn legs off.  “I want to get her away from him. Zenana will keep her safe.”

She stared, her eyes growing larger and rounder, until she burst out,  “Oh Goddess, you sad sack of failure. You fancy an alien! Did you go native over on that backwater planet?  Poor Lina. No wonder you never gave her much attention. You were too busy rutting aliens.”

The humiliation burned and he let it roll over him.  Being laughed at his expense was painful, but necessary if she’ll do this for him and Bridget. Jenna giggled, her braids jingling like coins, and when she sober enough, pushing down her mirth, she said through a strained voice, that threatened to erupt into laughter again, “I’ll do this for you, but I want something in return.”

“I’ll return a quarter of the settlement to your family,” Takor said, prepared to bargain hard.

“No,” Jenna said, leaning forward and propping an elbow on her desk, balancing her chin on the heel of her hand.  “I want half deposited into my personal account.” At Takor’s quizzical look, she said, “Lina was always the favorite.  It’s time I got some recompense for that.”

“I have a quarter ready to be deposited into whatever account you want,” Takor said.  “And I’ll give you another quarter for another favor.”

Jenna snickered, plainly enjoying this call, “Oh?”

“I want to be transferred to Zenana.”

Jenna blinked.  “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Her mouth dropped open and ears straighten, alert from surprise.  “My, my, you must have it bad if you are willing to submit yourself to such humiliation to be close to her.  If she becomes a Courtesan, she’ll be off limits to your rank.”

“I know,” he said.  For the first time since the beginning of the call, he looked away.

“Alright, I can manage that,” Jenna said.  “However, I want something more than another quarter of the settlement.  You have a house on Silva?”

He sighed, “I’ll have the deed transferred to your name.”

“Lina regretted losing that house to you and I would love to see the look on her face when I tell her I’m hosting a party there.”  Jenna’s braids chimed as she sent over her account information. “Once I have the funds, I’ll contact Zenana on your behalf.”

Within minutes, he had transferred the money and the deed into Jenna’s name. Losing the money hurt, but he dearly regretted losing the house as Bridget would have liked living there.

Jenna checked her account and nodded, pleased.  “Alright, I’ll uphold my end of the bargain. It’ll take a quintant for me to compile a portfolio and basic medical information, but I’ll have it sent along with a reference for you.”

“How long before I can expect a response?”

“Depends on what mood Madame Floentha is in when she gets the message, though I suspect she won’t take long to decide on your female. The recommendation is coming from me, oh, and I’ll be taking the commission as well for ‘discovering’ your human.”

“Of course,” he didn’t dare refute that.  “And . . .if Prorok refuses to give her up?”

“Oh, then Madame Floentha will make his life a social hell.”

 

***

 

It took three mind-numbing days before he finally received a news of his transfer to Zenana. His first order was to have the human female readied for transport and report to Zenana for training.  So now he had acquired Bridget’s admittance into Zenana, now he had to get her released into his custody.

Though Zenana had no political power, it was highly respected and revered as the top R&R station for the Empire’s Elite. Denying them a request, though wasn’t punishable by Imperial law, was considered social suicide. The head of Zenana, as was her previous predecessors took any denial personally and could put the offender through a gauntlet of crude rumors, public rebuffs, and favors called in to make his or her life a hell. Takor had heard stories of Galra being denied well-earned promotions and taking their own life after being subjected to Zenana’s revenge.

Though he was certain Prorok wasn’t stubborn enough to risk the focus of Zenana’s ire, he felt that he should have some form of backup when he broke the news to the Commander.  Lieutenant Thace was the only candidate that he could safely approach. As he sent a request to Thace’s commlink, he thought it was possible that he may not need support after all.  Prorok may not think anything of giving up Bridget as he could have gotten bored of her already.

Then chillingly, he thought it also possible that she was already dead. He had checked on her through the medical records by bribing a medic to see how often a medical sentry went to the cell she was kept in.  The most recent visit had been a day ago, but a lot can happen in a day.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Thace responded to his request.  He was greeted with a frigid glare. The Lieutenants feelings towards him haven’t warmed in the slightest.  “Yes?”

“I managed to get a - a ‘relative’ of mine to recommend the human to Zenana.  They’ve accepted her and want me to bring her to them.”

Again, he was the recipient of a disbelieving stare.  “Zenana? It would be kinder just to shoot her and be done with it.”

Takor swallowed back an annoyed growl.  Every second this idiot delayed him was a second Bridget was suffering under Prorok.  “Will you come with me to collect her?”

“You want me there to pacify Prorok while you take your human out of his clutches.  Like tricking a Barbaba hen out of its chicks,” Thace said sourly. “Fine, meet me on his level.  He’s been using her as a stress reliever so don’t expect him to relinquish her without some trouble.”

In less than an hour, they caught up to each other on the elevators.  Thace’s face was set in a serious frown as if he was to go head to head in a Challenge.  “I tried to hail him, but his commlink is set to emergency calls only. I can only assume he’s with her right now.”

Takor kept his crest flat to his skull, not betraying how distressed that news made him.  What condition would she be in when they got her back? If she was too damaged, then Zenana might turn her away or give her back to Prorok.  If that happened . . . then killing her might not be a bad idea, no matter how it hurt him to do it.

There was a slave quarters next to Prorok’s cabin.  Without any ado, Thace bang on the door. “Commander, sir?”

There was a short stirring inside, a bed being disturbed and feet setting on the floor, “What is it?”  Prorok’s voice was thick as if he had just woken up and was very annoyed by it. “I’m busy at the moment.”

“A request has been sent by Zenana,” Thace said giving Takor a cautious look, a signal to be on his guard.  “They’re requesting the female you have in your possession.”

There was a long pause and there were footfalls from within. A door slid open and Prorok filled the doorway, shirtless, with thick ungroomed fur bristled across his chest and arms.  His eyes heavy with sleep and also with growing annoyance. “When?”

“Just now, sir,” Thace said,  “They want the human female.”

Prorok’s eyes narrowed into vertical slits.  “And how would they know about her?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Thace said without a trace of duplicity.  “I can make an inquiry if you wish.”

“No, don’t bother,” Prorok growled.  He rubbed the bridge of his nose before turning his head towards a small bed with a small figure lay.  “Did you hear that? You’re going to Zenana.”

There was a whisper of skin on cloth.  She peered at him over a bare shoulder, a curtain of red hair hiding most of her face.  The green eyes were devoid of emotion, blank, like two jade stones. There was old bruise around her right eye.

“She’s a little moody when she wakes up,” Prorok said casually, scratching behind one ear.  “Maybe Zenana will correct that.”

This was going easier than Takor expected, but Thace was still standing tense with a straight back.  He took this as a sign to be on guard until Bridget was in his possession. He stiffened when Prorok stroll to the bed.

Bridget pushed herself to sit with short pained motions.  Her fan of red hair couldn't hide all the bruises on her back and shoulders. She cringed as Prorok came close and rested a hand on her head, the claws threading through the tresses.  He petted her as if she were an affectionate pet. “Are you going to miss me?”

Sudden dread filled his stomach as he sensed what was coming and knew it was impossible to prevent. Bridget lifted her chin, her jaw clenched, and then white spit flung from her lips and landed on Prorok’s stomach.

Prorok looked down at the spit clinging to his fur and sighed disappointedly.  “Zenana is going to have their work cut out. Here, I’ll help them out with your manners.”

He wrenched her off the bed by the hair.  She spilled onto the floor, the sheet tangled around her legs and she lay limp as if dead. Before Takor could shout or act, Prorok swung back a foot and kicked her in the stomach with the force of a sledgehammer. The force of the kick propelled her across the floor where she rolled until she stopped near Thace’s feet.  She curled up, clutching her stomach, and choking.

Without a word, or waiting for permission, Takor scooped her up and took her away to medical.

 

***

 

Her wrist had been broken a week before and an adhesive brace had set the broken bone in place.  He requested painkillers and Fast Heal and the medic supplied them without question. It seemed that Thace had called ahead and order the medics to provide whatever supplies he needed. They could only use the Universal meds, safe for all aliens, as they were uncertain if her kind had any allergies to the stronger meds meant for Galra.                      

Takor had her taken to his room to recuperate. He informed Zenana that there was a slight delay and they would be leaving within three quintants.  It may not be enough time for all the injuries to heal, especially the wrist. He could only hope that the bruises would fade enough so they wouldn’t turn her away when she arrived.

Bridget slept in his bed, lull to sleep by sedatives, and with her small frame, there was plenty of room for him to sleep next to her.  Sometimes she woke up, startled and afraid. He caressed her hair, telling her she was away from Prorok and safe. How long had he imagined waking up next to her in bed?  Never like this, though, he did take pleasure in comforting her.

He traced the length of her nose, the edges of her lips and brows with a finger pad.  Each bruise and injury told a story of what she went through. There was a ring of bruises around her neck from whenever Prorok choked her to keep her from screaming in his face.  When she woke up the day after he took her from Prorok, her voice was a low hoarse whisper, “I want. . . I need to bathe.”

“You’re clean.”  A medical sentry had come by earlier to sponge bathe her and to administer Fast Heal.

“I want a shower,” she hissed, pushing herself up and crying out as her still mending ribs ached.

“Bridget, stop, you’re still recovering,” he touched her shoulder and she flinched.

“Don’t touch me,” she growled, her green eyes flashing.  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She kept rising, struggling to stand up. He had stripped off her prisoner garb and changed her into a pair of white pajamas he had collected from her belongings back on Earth, hoping it would make her more comfortable. She was unbuttoning the top with her sound hand as she rose to her feet, wincing as each movement caused pain to unravel through her body.

If she was insisting, then he would oblige her.  “Alright, it's this way. Let me get the door.”

The bathroom wasn’t spacious with enough room for a sink, toilet, and shower stall.  He showed her where the shower was and she made her way there. She swayed with each unsteady step, but she was determined.  “You can leave me alone now.”

“I’m trying to help,” he said, reaching to take her arm after she caught herself on the sink.

“Don’t touch me!”  She screeched with surprising vigor.

“I don’t want you to fall,” he said patiently.

“You let me fall!” her voice was reaching towards hysterics.  “You let me fall and break my head open on the floor, but don’t you dare touch me!  You goddamn kat!”

He flinched from the vehemence in her voice.  He didn’t touch her, but he stayed close to catch her if she fell.  She made it into the shower stall alright, pushed down her pajama bottoms. Too hurt to care that he could see her without a stitch on, she slapped at the water taps display which didn’t respond until he turned on the water for her.  She moaned in relief as the water drenched her, turning her face up into the spray. Her curls lay flat under the tide of water, clinging to her neck and shoulders.

After showing her where the soap dispenser was, he stepped back and watched her shower.  With her injuries, there was no arousal in watching her. Only regret that this wasn’t under more pleasant circumstances. She bathed herself for a long time, sometimes scratching her skin as if she was trying to scrape off the top layer of her flesh.  She bent her head and watched her hair, scrubbing vigorously at her scalp. Then she began pulling at her hair, hard with hands shaking from the effort. There was an uneasy rip as hair was pulled from her scalp.

“Bridget, stop!”  He reached to take her wrists.

“Get away from me!”  She shrieked twisting away.  The heel of one foot slipped in the suds that had pooled at her feet.

If he hadn’t taken hold of her good wrist, she would have had a bad fall.  He lowered her onto her rear and turned off the water with the long reach of one hand.  “Calm down. He’s not here anymore.”

“But you are!”  she spat in his face, yanking her wrists from his grasp, nearly tearing open her wrists on his claws. “I said get away from me!”  She scooped up a handful of suds and threw them in his face.

The suds missed his eyes and he wiped them away, moving back to give her the space she wanted.  “I got you away from him.” Where were the thanks? The gratitude?

“And are you any better!?”  She said nastily, hugging her legs with both arms wrapped around them.  “It’s your fault this happened . . .that everything happened. You destroyed my family.”

“I already explained to you what happened on Earth,” he said through gritted teeth.  “It was all a misunderstanding . . .”

“Shut up.  I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”  She hissed, her face twisted with hate. “I almost - almost - swallowed more of your lies before, but never again will I ever trust you and any damn kat again.”

If he could have killed Prorok right then, he would have.  That bastard had ruined everything. All his plans for his life with Bridget was destroyed and he had sunk lower than his own demotion had warranted. And this beautiful woman with vibrant red hair stared at him at with such hatred, he barely recognized her.

“You’re going to be okay,”  he said, wanting to offer some comfort.

“Just get away from me,” she muttered.  “I don’t want help from a damn kat.”

She dried and dressed herself, refusing any aid from him.  It took a long time, but she crept back to the bed, seemingly satisfied.  He sat down once she laid down, relaxed that she was no longer in danger of falling.  With eyes closed she pulled a blanket over herself, seeming content enough to drift back to sleep.

“We’re not going to Silva as I planned,” he said softly, taking the chair from the desk.

“I didn’t want to go anyway,” she mumbled.  “Not with you.”

That stung, but he pushed it aside.  He sat down on the chair after placing it close to bed to watch her sleep.  He didn’t dare tell her about Zenana now.

And Takor had a plan.  Bridget didn’t have the mindset nor the capability of being a Courtesan. Once they tried training her and introducing her to potential patrons, they’ll doubtlessly see that she didn’t have what it took to be one.  Guards and staff members get first bids on failed bodies. He had enough money set aside to ensure that he could win her in an auction. After that, he’ll take whatever money he had left over and they would begin their life together.

The first thing is that he had to get her admitted into Zenana. He already had some sedatives set aside to take the edge off her anxiety and maybe if she didn’t know what kind of place Zenana was, she’ll stay calm until after she was admitted.

“Bridget, I’m sorry.”  He didn’t know what he was apologizing for.  Sorry for her rape? Sorry for what happened to her family?  Or the hand he had played to bring to this state. “I love you.  All I wanted to do was to love you. You shouldn’t have rejected me.  I wasn’t going to ask you to leave your family for me. I only wanted to be a part of your life, but you shunned me and you shouldn’t have done that.  I did some things you would consider underhanded to stay close to you. Because I needed you. I needed you more than you needed me so I guess I did make where you need for me was greater.  But that’s alright that you need me because that gives me plenty of chances to help you.”

She didn’t hear him as she was in a blissful, dreamless sleep.      

  
  



	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Eva**

 

When he opened the door and saw the dark hair woman, he didn’t recognize her at first.  She was tall, nearly his height wearing a long black coat with a fur neck collar over a white blouse with a black long skirt.  She was tanned with fine features that he had trouble placing as he hadn’t seen her in many years. 

“Hi, Mr. Liam,” she said with a rueful smile.  

“Hello, Eva Hayes,” he said in a gruff voice.  “Come in, dear, and I’ll put the kettle on.”

“I can do it,” she said coming inside and stamping snow from her boots.  “I’ve been here enough times to know where you keep the tea.”

“I won’t be having a guest making her own tea in my home,” he said not unkindly, turning away towards the kitchen.  

Eva hung up her coat on the hanger and stepped into the living room.  She remembered doing homework on the coffee table with Bridget. And watching tv on the couch whenever she spent the night whenever things at home became too much to deal with.  A toddler roamed along the edge of a couch using it as a handhold. He was holding a ball in his other hand and burbling to himself.

She knelt and held out her hands.  “Connor, it’s auntie!”

The dark-haired child looked at her with bright blue eyes that made her heartache.  They reminded her of a beloved friend that had died long before his time. He toddled to her, dropping the ball which rolled under the couch with a beaming smile.  She swept him up into a hug and kissed his head. He laid his face on her shoulder in a hug, taking pleasure in the familiarity of his Godmother.

Liam shuffled around in the kitchen setting a kettle on the stove and fetched the tea set from a cabinet.  She carried Connor to the table and sat down with him on her knee. “How has he been?”

“Better than when he arrived,” Liam said pitching tea leaves into a white teapot.  “He didn’t know me and cried when I picked him up, but we sorted each other out and now he calls me Pa.  Sometimes, he looks for his Ma and Da and gets confused when he can’t find them.”

Eva closed her eyes and forced back the tears that she had already shed plenty of before when got the news.  Right now she needed to be strong and tell Liam what he most surely wanted to know. When he finished making tea and Connor had a biscuit to entertain himself, she told him everything.

The elder listened solemnly, sipping his tea with a stony face.  Eva knew Liam Moore enough to know he was breaking inside as she told him the fate of his daughter and son-in-law.  “I managed to bring Devin’s body to Liverpool. It wasn’t easy and I’m going to owe some favors, but we can give him a proper burial.”

“We’ll give him a Catholic funeral even if I have to do the rites myself,” Liam swore to her.  “As much as it is an honor to bury the lad in my family’s grave plots, why didn’t you send him to his kin?”

“I offered, but they said he would want to be buried close to his son,”  Eva said, remembering the tearful eyes of Devin’s mother and siblings. They barely flinched when she told them about Kevin Walsh’s passing.  Their tears were for Devin only.

“And,” Liam swallowed, the apple in his throat bobbing, “Bridget?”

“I . . . I don’t know.  I went through all my sources and they can’t tell me which labor camp the Galra sent her to or even if she’s still alive.”  It hurt to say the words, to image Bridget being forced against a wall and shot by a sentry. Though, she would prefer that fate for her than a hellish labor camp.  “I’ll keep digging until I find out.”

“Do you think that kat bastard, Takor, was it, would know something?”  Liam curled a hand into a tight fist as if he long to punch said kat.

“I would think so, but he left Earth and I have no way of getting information from off planet.  I hope his ship crashes,” she said with a surge of hate.

There was a deep choking noise.  She looked up and saw what should have been one of the signs of the Apocalypse.  Liam Moore, the strongest man she ever knew who looked as if he was carved from hard oak was sobbing into one hand.  Large tears rolled over the craggy cheeks and over gnarl, scarred fingers. His mouth torn in a grimace, his still solid and white teeth bared.

“It’s my fault.  I turned my own girl out and I lost her.”

“Mr. Liam,” Eva said, his tears stirring her own.  “Please, don’t . . .”

“If I hadn’t been such a pisser, then maybe I could have convinced them to come to Liverpool before the kats came,” Liam raised his jade green eyes to Eva’s, anguish and unrelenting guilt in them.  “I didn’t walk her down the aisle at her own wedding. I didn’t dance with her . . .I was going to go . . .I was, I bought the suit and everything, but . . .but, I got angry again and I didn’t go. I miss me own girl’s wedding and now I lost her forever.  I wasted a year being mad at her and I’ll never see her again. The one chance I had to see her one more time and I didn’t go. I didn’t go!”

Eva came around the table and embraced the solid old man.  “Mr. Liam, please, don’t blame yourself. It’s my fault! I should never involve Devin.  I should have gotten them out of Limerick sooner before he got arrested.”

They shared a moment of weeping before Liam took a deep snort and just like that, he stood up, wiping his face on a napkin and threw it away.  “I’ll go to the priest and see about a funeral for the poor soul today. Will you stay with Connor while I’m away?”

“Yes sir,” Eva said brushing away her tears herself.  “And I want you to know that I’m moving down the street so I’ll be close by to look after Connor whenever you need me to.”

“No,” Liam said firmly.  “There’s no need . . .”

Then Eva erupted, “I’m his Godmother!  I swore to his mother that if anything happened to them then I would take care of him as if he was my own son!  Bridget was closer to me than my own family and I’ll be damned if I let your self-righteousness and pride keep me from fulfilling the last promise I ever made to her!”

They stood glaring at each other, neither of them backing down from the other.  The kitchen was silent save for Connor’s innocent trills from where he slobbered on his biscuit.  Liam outweighed Eva by fifty pounds, but most of it was solid muscle. People still say that Liam the Ram could take people into the ring if he so chose despite his retirement age.  Eva swallowed, waiting for his own murderous eruption of being so defied in his own home.

Liam cleared his throat again and said, “There’s no need for you to move down the street when we have plenty of room here.”

Eva blinked.  “Come again?”

“Bridget’s room is just as she left it and Donna has been keeping it clean.  We can move her clothes to the attic to make room for yours.”

Eva deflated, dropping into the chair behind her.  The energy she was holding for a fight left her like air from a balloon.  “I’m sorry . . .I . . .I can’t move in . . .”

“You’re going to have to.  You and I are going to be working together after all.”  Liam looked out the far window where the sunrise was casting its long rays into the kitchen.

There was a fire in his eyes.  The same fire she saw in Mary and Kenneth Walsh’s eyes when she told them of their brother’s death.  In private, where their mother couldn’t hear, she gave them names of people to talk to and then left for Liverpool.  Her superiors were against her plans to move to Liverpool, saying she was needed in London, but she was adamant.

I need to stay close to family for they are the reason I fight, she had told them before she departed for Liverpool under an alias.  Without family, what are we but poor lost souls who cater to the whims of flesh and without purpose?

But the opposite can also be true.  The Galra had killed Devin and taken Bridget, but now three souls have answered the call to freedom.  Three have risen where two had fallen. Six will rise where four had fallen. And so on. The Galra think they’ll win by arresting and killing rebels, but they don’t count on those left behind.  

 

  
**Takor**

Bridget had to be drugged for the journey or be restrained.  Drugging her would be more comfortable for both of them. The bruises had healed but were still bloomed on her pale skin.  He could see the influence of the drug floating in her eyes and the way she swayed with him as he led her to their seats.

As soon as she sat, she leaned over the seat, planting her head on his lap, affirming the drug was strong in her system.  She fell asleep, lull by her hair being stroked. Takor raised the red curls up and let them fall.

Her eyelids twitched before they opened, gazing at him in a drug-induced haze.  Her eyes slowly came into focus on him and she smiled. It was the first time he had seen her smile in so long.  It brought back old feelings of when she trusted him and the hate that lurked in her eyes was inconceivable.

“Am I going home, Takor?”  She asked, her voice soft and musical.  “Are you taking me home?”

“Yes, Bridget, I am,” he said.  

She blinked, a slow drop of her lashes and she lost focus for a moment, then regained it with another blink.  “Devin must be worried. Did you call him and tell him I’m on my way back?”

Takor swallowed, “Yes, I told him.”

Bridget lay her cheek down his thigh, relaxing under his petting.  “Do you think he’ll give Connor a bath before putting him to bed? He sleeps better if he has a bath first.”

“I - I don’t know.”  Takor looked ahead, feeling as if he was being buried.  

“Thank you for taking me home,” Bridget said, drifting off.  “You’re always there to help me.”

“Yeah, I’ll always be there for you.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Bridget: What Came Before.


	26. Bonus Chapter:  Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Valentine's day gift to readers. A short chapter about Devin and Bridget meeting for the first time.

“Is this seat taken?”

I was startled from my reverie by a tall man with neatly trimmed dark hair standing at the table I was sitting.  I hadn’t realized I was alone until he showed up. The others must have found dance partners while I wasn’t paying attention, so lost in my own thoughts.

“There’s plenty of room,” I said, wishing Alison hadn’t abandoned me to waltz with one of the groom’s brothers.  

He sat down, not next to me as I feared he would, but across from me.  He was holding a cold rime bottle of beer, plucked from the ice chest someone had brought to the party.  “Lovely couple, eh?”

He motioned to the bride and groom sitting at their own private table.  The bride was blushing and basking in the attention heaped upon her by well-wishers and friends.  And the groom was being ragged on and teased by choosing the old ball and chain. But they both looked happy together.  Often they held each other’s hand or whispered something in the other’s ear that made him or her smile. Their table was laden with gifts and cards.  Some crude guest even tossed a family planner on the table where everyone could see it. It led some credence to the rumors of why the couple pushed the wedding forward.

“Do you know them?”  My tall, dark visitor inquired.

“Not personally.  We attended some of the same classes,” I said.

“Which school?”  He asked interestedly.  When I told him the name of the school, he became intrigued.  “No kidding? I started this semester.”

“Oh, really?”  I asked. “What are you studying?”

“Some business courses.  Also, some vocational training on the side.  You?”

“Literature and Education,” I said.  

“What grade do you want to teach?”

“Anything in Primary school. Though secondary school may be more fun as I can get into the classics.”

He smelled good and I could tell he had his hair cut, likely for this party and that won him a lot of points from me.  If you ever wanted to attract me, then come around me smelling clean and neat. The smell of soap worked on me as well as cologne ever could.  The last man I dated, of whom I broke things off with, expected me to trim his hair and comb it for him. He thought that only spritzing himself with deodorant when in a would take the place of a decent shower.  

Thinking of him dampen my appeal for this man.  I had already sworn off men until I graduated next year.  This break up had been too messy, not just between us, but from our parents who were already planning our wedding.  Dad had spent an hour lecturing me on the phone about turning down a good Catholic man of whom any good girl would give her eye teeth for.  Well, I said that I preferred my eye teeth over him, thank you very much. I daresay, if I had been five years younger and didn’t have the Irish sea between us, I would have felt the bite of his belt.

He offered to get us some drinks and though I considered it, I turned it down.  “No, please, don’t. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, but I’m comfortable being alone for a while.”

“So, you’re single?”  he perked up.

“As of two days ago, yes,” I moaned.  “And it was a pretty bad breakup for which I am still getting grief about it from our parents.”

His eyebrows rose eye on his forehead and after considering my words, I blurted out, “NO!  My father and his mother! They thought we were going to get married.”

“Oooh, and I guess being at someone’s wedding party doesn’t help,” he said sympathetically.  

“Not really, but then I see how happy they are,” I motioned to the happy couple, “and it tells me how unhappy I would have been with him.”

“How so?”  the man asked.

“I . . .well, my dad,” I felt myself blushing.  I had never been so open with a complete stranger before.  But then I never met anyone who was so interested in what I had to think or felt.  Other than Eva. “My dad thinks the ideal man for me is a devout Catholic with a good job.  Those are good qualities, but I expected more from him that he was willing to give. Then again, I could say it was the other way around, as he expected more than what I was willing to give him.”

Usually, some stranger would have made a crude joke to entertain themselves, but he didn’t.  He listened to me, taking in everything I had to say. “I want to marry a man who'll see me as a partner.  Not as only the lady he lives with him that cooks his meals and cleans his house and takes care of his kids.  And that’s what he would have me be. I wouldn’t be anything more than a housekeeping nanny to him and my father doesn’t see that.”

Now I was really blushing.  Here I was sounding like an intellectual feminist.  It looked I wouldn’t have to turn him down, I was probably running him off with my poignant rant.  But he didn’t seem bored, but was thoughtful and nodding. At first, I thought he was playing along while thinking of how to get into my pants.  He surprised me when he said, “That’s what happened with my mother. She married a man who didn’t see her as anything more than a servant. Maybe not even that.”

I stared at him, completely taken aback.  I had expected him to pretend to sympathize or patronize me, not this.  

He leaned back in his chair, his beer forgotten, even pushed away as if it disgusted him.  “Dinner was cold, wham, punch to the face. A hole in his favorite shirt, blam, fist in the stomach.  If she didn’t answer him right away when he called her, he slapped her to make sure she paid attention.  My mother could have done so much better for herself than marry my da. I wished she had the sense you do.  She would be a much happier person right now.”

I didn’t know what to say.  No one had ever confided in me something like that before.  Saying sorry didn’t seem to do right by him. I finally said, “My heart breaks that you had endured that.”

He gave me a rueful smile, then sat straighter in his chair, “I’d ask you to dance, but I’m afraid you’d only do it because you pity me.”

I shook my head, “I’d dance just so my girlfriends don’t start pitying me.”

So I took his hand and we danced the waltz together.  He told me his name was Devin Walsh and I introduced myself as Bridget Moore.  I thought he was going to try to get me to go with him after the party, but he didn’t.  He simply said he’d see me at school. And sure enough, the next day, while walking through the quad to my next class, he was there watching for me.     

 

**Author's Note:**

> Any reviews or Kudos is much appreciated. 
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr through RebelCourtesan muse blog.


End file.
